What Do You Mean No Quidditch?
by JaimeJabs
Summary: Hold on to your hats, folks, Harry has an idea. Why is Quidditch so much more than a simple game? And why would Harry not take the chance to test himself against the world's best seeker?
1. An Idea

Harry was happy. No, happy wasn't right. He was free. He was flying and it made him feel exhilarated and in control. Control. That was what flying was about to him; having complete freedom and control over the next moment. When he flew, there were no rules to abide by, no crowd to please.

 _And maybe that's why I am so damn good at it,_ he thought, a painfully wide grin on his face as he stopped within inches of the ground. He flew up, ignoring the profanities coming from his eloquent best friend. _Hermione may be one of the smartest people there is, but she sure can't understand what this is about._

And Harry wouldn't wish her to understand. He wouldn't wish the claustrophobic life he led, or more accurately, he was forced to lead, on her. _Because I have to admit I have no freedom of choice._

Even the thought of Hermione locked in a cupboard or forced into a deadly tournament made his blood boil. Harry was far too much alike to Tom Riddle for that hypothetical situation to not turn into a bloodbath.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he flew in lazy circles, watching the passing scenery with fascination. One thing he never could share with his friends, because he wasn't articulate enough, was that Hogwarts was not a home for him because of the people in it.

No, the people of Hogwarts were idiots, much like everywhere else in the world, or everywhere else he's been in as limited as they were.

No, Hogwarts was his home because here, he had a minuscule of freedom. Here, he could take to the skies and watch the horizon and dream. Dream of a world with no judgement and no insults. Dream of a world where there was no pain and prejudice. Oh, how he loved that dream.

He loved Hogwarts because he could dream here even though those dreams were nothing but a figment of his imagination.

His musings were cut short by another flier. It wasn't hard to identify the mysterious flier because he was as good on the broom as Harry. Oh, and he was flying right next to Harry.

"I haff been votching. You fly vell," praised the Bulgarian Quidditch star.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the unexpected compliment. "Thanks." He cocked his head and smiled. "If you want, I can teach you."

Victor answered with a booming laugh though there was nothing condescending about it. It was the laugh of someone with absolute confidence in his talents so had no quarrel with joking about it. "Come, ve shall practise together." With that, the Bulgarian champion sped down and zigzagged around, challenging Harry nonverbally to follow.

Harry was a lot of things, but he has never been the one to refuse a challenge, so the two seekers started on an hour-long chase. Harry chased Victor and Victor chased Harry. There were many faints and death-defying stunts that left Hermione hoarse from screaming and red from exertion.

The boys weren't even aware of the crowd that gathered to watch their half-hearted suicide attempts. They weren't aware of the cheers and yells coming from the crowd. They were doing what they loved the most, and laughing and ridiculing each other with wide smiles they almost never showed to the world.

The two adrenaline junkies barely made it to the ground before Hermione launched herself at Harry, resulting in a mess of limbs and hair on the ground. "You irresponsible, suicidal, inconsiderate arse!" the half of the mess yelled while punching, or at least trying to punch, the green-eyed wizard. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! I already had to watch you out fly a dragon!"

Ignoring Victor's snickers, Harry carefully disengaged from the bushy-haired volcano, his face red as a tomato. "Hermione!" he yelled to get his best friend's attention and to cut her tirade. "Calm down, I'm okay. Dear Victor, here, was so impressed with my flying, I couldn't say no when he oh-so-humbly asked me to teach him a trick or two. Have sympathy for the poor guy."

"Poor guy?" Victor mimicked unbelievingly while he gave a complete once-over to Hermione.

"Besides, I'm not suicidal," Harry continued, ignoring the Bulgarian's raised eyebrow and the something dark that perched on his stomach because of the look he gave Hermione. Seeing the mount Granger on the verge of another explosion, he preemptively hugged the girl. "Calm down, will ya? I'm okay."

Hermione could do nothing but hug her suicidal friend, and secret crush, back, willing her heart to slow down. "Next time you pull stunts like that, I want to be far, far away. Quidditch is one thing. This was far worse." If her voice was a little too charged, no one said anything.

Instead, Harry turned to Victor with a new gleam on his eyes that if Hermione saw, she'd hate. "Speaking of Quidditch, don't you think it's a travesty we don't get to play this year?"

"Da. I miss playing," Victor agreed, as vocal as ever.

"No. No, no. No!" Hermione shook her head rapidly. "You have enough on your plate and I fear enough for your well-being without that damn game." When she realised Harry and Victor weren't listening, she sobbed into her hands, "Why am I even trying?"

Harry nodded at his friend. "Indeed." He turned to his fellow Quidditch enthusiast. "Why don't we, the four champions, each field a team and have a little tournament for ourselves?"

"We haff to talk to the other two," he agreed.

"You talk to Delacour. I'll take Cedric. I'll talk to Dumbledore about the logistics."

With that, the two went on their separate ways, Victor followed by a gang of giggling girls, Harry followed by someone far scarier than a gang of giggling girls; Hermione.

"Harry, why must you do this to me?" asked his brilliant friend as they walked through the entrance hall. "Do you have to give me a heart attack?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't _have_ to. Can't say I don't enjoy your worry for my well-being though."

"You enjoy scaring me?!"

Harry turned and regarded her. "I must confess I do. It is my favourite pastime activity," he said with a serious face, cackling madly inside.

He didn't know why but he couldn't help needle her. He didn't even know if he was serious or not.

"Why would you enjoy such a thing?"

Harry shrugged, "No idea." As he walked passed the giant doors of the Great Hall, he searched for his target and found him sitting on, surprise, surprise, the Hufflepuff table. "Yo, Cedric."

"What do you want, cheater," a dark-haired individual sneered, giving Harry the impression he wasn't welcome at the table of badgers.

"An intelligent conversation. So, how about you shut up and let the grownups talk?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned to the _real_ champion of Hogwarts. The sneering individual huffed in irritation but the snort from Cedric kept his mouth shut. "Krum and I were talking about Quidditch, and we thought it would be great if we had a little tournament. Every champion will field their own team. Nothing set in stone yet as I will have a talk with our esteemed Headmaster and work out the logistics. Krum is talking to Delacour. You in?"

"Sure thing, Harry. I wanted a rematch of our last game anyway," answered Cedric enthusiastically. "This time, I'll win fair and square."

Harry grinned at the older boy. "Dream on, pretty boy."

"Any restrictions on who we can select for the team?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. As long as they are students, they are fair game. Except for the twins and the flying foxes. They are mine," he warned. "No poaching."

Cedric grinned in response. "I don't know. They might decide it's time for them to play with a better seeker."

Harry turned to the Gryffindor table, his eyes zeroing in on his teammates. "Sure thing, honey. See you around."

Ignoring Hermione's huff of "Boys!", Harry made his way to his house table and sat heavily next to the twin troublemakers, leaving a place next to him for Hermione to sit. "Victor and I are organising a Quidditch tournament. Each champion will select a team. If any of you five," he pointed at each of his teammates, "play for another champion, I'll cut you out in your sleep. Then I'll eat hearts with hot sauce and butterbeer."

The Gryffindor team and Hermione sat in silence for a moment, looking at Harry with wide eyes before everyone laughed. It was a twin who answered, "Sure thing, Harrikins."

Angelina leaned in, "I missed playing. And it will be a good chance to find and train a goalkeeper for the next year."

Harry smiled wide and put an arm around Hermione. "Then organise a small try-out. Hell, why don't you recruit reserves while you are at it? Four of you will graduate next year. This way, Katie and I won't need to build a new team from the ground up."

"Makes sense," the dark-skinned girl answered with a nod. "But what about what Dumbledore said at the Welcoming Feast?"

"I'll handle the twinkling wrinkle," Harry declared with a puffed up chest.

"Harry, show respect to the Headmaster," admonished Hermione.

Harry smiled at his predictable friend and leaned in. "Hermione, I am forced into a high-stakes, life-threatening tournament. I saved this school, I saved at least three lives in this school. I think he owes me this much." He thought about it for a moment and continued, "And, well, from my interactions with him, he would enjoy the nickname. I mean, the man loves to live up to his whacky old grandpa image. I'm sure he'd love this new nickname as well."

Hermione huffed but refrained from saying anything else which was a surprise. Harry absentmindedly snacked on various food made by the hardworking elves as he waited for Victor to show up and give the go ahead. He was vaguely aware Ron wasn't there but didn't worry. Ron would never miss out on a chance to stuff himself with food.

He was troubled as he considered why he felt the need to hold Hermione close to him. And why seeing Cho sit next to Cedric didn't make him feel as upset as seeing Krum give Hermione a once-over did.

He concluded that Hermione was much more important to him than some silly school-boy crush he had on beautiful Cho. Hermione was his best friend, someone who stood by him through thick and thin. And while he might've survived even without her help, he would be in a much darker place without her support and constant presence in his life.

His best friend brought him out of his musings by gently elbowing him and pointing her head towards Victor, who nodded his success at him. Harry gave Hermione's shoulder a squeeze and stood, making his way to the head table and in front of where the Headmaster was sitting, unaware of the studious girl following him. "Good evening, Headmaster."

"Good evening, young Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning back on his throne and regarding Harry with a kind smile. "What can I do for you this beautiful evening?"

Harry squared his shoulders and put his nervousness out of his mind. "Well, sir, the other three champions and I want to arrange a Quidditch tournament with four teams, one for each champion. I was hoping to arrange the logistics with you."

The Headmaster shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that's not possible, my boy. The staff is stretched thin as it is with all the requirements for the Triwizard tournament."

"Sir, there are far too few chances and incentives for three schools to interact with each other. Didn't you say they brought this tournament back to improve international cooperation and for us to make connections? What better way to do that than by enjoying a sport most people love?"

Dumbledore looked over his glasses and regarded his young charge seriously. "I don't think you appreciate the amount of effort the staff is putting into the preparations for this tournament, Harry. We don't have the resources or the time to make a Quidditch tournament viable."

Harry stiffened at the dismissive tone the Headmaster was using and narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I have to put my life in danger for a tournament I have no desire to compete in, but I cannot take part in a tournament I would enjoy? You are speaking as if spending two hours on weekends would put such a constraint on the staff's shoulders, it is unrealistic. Need I remind you that Madam Hooch isn't even in the school to help you with the preparations? If she's unavailable, Mr. Bagman doesn't help much with any of the preparations and I'm sure he'd love the... nostalgia of refereeing the matches. And what resources? Everyone has their own broom, all you need to supply would be the balls for the game, balls the school already have." He was making this up as he went and had no idea where this courage was coming from but he persevered.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something but Harry didn't let him. "Let's forget all that for a moment and consider what having this tournament would mean. Four champions facing off in the air, at least three of whom are seekers. That is a spectacle in and of itself. Also, you have the star seeker of the last Quidditch World Cup. He will play against the Boy-Who-Lived, the youngest seeker of the century to play in semi-official capacity in the world. If you sold tickets to the games ten sickles per attendee, you would raise enough money to build a new Quidditch pitch for Hogwarts. Or a new wing for St. Mungo's. Hell, why not have the winning team play against a professional team? I'm sure one of the League teams would love to raise their fan-base by playing against me or Krum for charity. Why not have each team design their own uniforms and sign them so fans can buy the merchandise for charity? Can you imagine how much money we can raise if you auction off a jersey signed by Krum and me? Or how much a snitch caught by the winner of our match would go for?"

Harry took a deep breath and let the tension leave his body, only now aware of the silence of Great Hall. "If you handle this right, Headmaster, you can create additional resources to do as you please."

Dumbledore looked at the hopeful faces of Harry and almost every other student in the hall. Then he turned to Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, both of whom nodded their consent, before he looked back at Harry and smiled. "Very well, then. How about you gather the other champions after dinner and meet us in my office to discuss this further? I'll ask Ludo and Barty to join us."

Harry basked in the cheers of the Great Hall and smiled back. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"You are welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile before his face turned serious. "But be warned, I expect you to take charge of this tournament. I will merely be there to support you while you deal with the details. It will be you who handles everything that comes up, scheduling, recruiting, ticket sales, sponsorships. Everything."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and not a little nervousness before he pushed them aside and nodded. "Not a problem. I have Hermione. I'm sure she'll do an even better job than your deputy could," Harry said with a wink before he turned to the said deputy. "No offence, Professor.

The Headmaster chuckled while McGonagall merely smiled. "None taken, Mr. Potter. I'll leave you in the capable hands of Miss Granger, who is coincidentally standing right behind you with a fuming expression."

Harry stiffened and screamed ' _oh, shit' inwardly._ He turned around with a puppy-eyed look. "Hermione, my best friend, the brightest and most beautiful witch of her age! I humbly beg your help for this enormous trouble I once again put myself in," he announced grandly while bowing.

Hermione smiled serenely. "Oh, I'll help you. Then I will murder you in your sleep in revenge of the all the time I'll miss with this harebrained scheme of yours."

Harry gulped, nervous not because of Hermione's words but because of the calm, serene way she said them. "You are the bestest friend anyone can ever have and I'll be forever in your debt if you'd accompany me to the Yule Ball?" he asked weakly.

Hermione's surprise was only momentary. "Oh, you will take me. You will wear something nice and you will dance all night long with zero complaints," she told him with a nod. "And you will buy me books. Lots and lots of books."

"I'll build you a personal library to rival the Library of Alexandria," Harry offered.

The brown-eyed girl rolled her brown eyes at Harry's exaggeration. "Deal. Now, let's go eat before Ron finishes all the food." She turned to look at the red-head and seeing the way he was eating, added, "in Scotland."

Harry chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder. "Ron loves his food."

"I hope I can find a husband who can love me as much as Ron loves food," Hermione joked, shaking her head at the spectacle their friend was making.

"Or as much as you love your books?" Harry grinned as they walked towards their friend.

"You are not out of the doghouse, mister."

Harry's grin couldn't leave his face faster. _I will pay for this for a long time._


	2. A To P Of Organization

"So, Fleur, which position do you play in? Or do you prefer the Bulgarian approach and sit on the sidelines to distract the opposing team with your feminine charms?" Harry asked. _Okay, the '_ leettle boy _' comment may have bruised my ego more than I realised. I can see her brain from her flaring nostrils._

"You'll see wheech position I play in when I beez you in ze air, leettle boy," the gorgeous French sneered.

Harry smiled at the girl, ignoring the painful grip Hermione had on his arm. "Sure, I will, sweetheart. Though, I am not a dragon or as weak-minded as most of the fools in this place so your delightful little aura won't help you one bit."

A glare and a silence met his mocking. "You see, Fleur, I don't like it when people make assumptions about me, good or bad. My little boy ego doesn't handle it very well."

Fleur flushed at that, an understanding look flashing on her face before she turned back to her usual haughty and aloof self, not continuing the dialogue.

"So, Viktor, are you up to using your fame to raise interest and money for a charity?"

"Da. I play for the national team. I am used to it," the burly Bulgarian answered, though it was obvious he wasn't a fan of the idea.

"The question is, are you ready for it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I thought you hated your fame."

Harry gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. I may have bitten more than I can chew but after three years I learned to just go with to flow when it comes to my half-arsed ideas. Besides, this whole tournament is a publicity nightmare and this will give me a way to put that bitch, Skeeter, in her place."

"Language, Harry!" Hermione predictably admonished. "But, yeah, she's a certifiable bitch."

The group laughed as Harry gave the password - enter generic magical candy name - to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office and walked up the spiral staircase. The door was already open, so they walked in to find the three school heads, two department heads, and Minister Fudge there.

"Good afternoon, Professors and the assorted ministry folk," Harry greeted cheerfully.

Fudge smiled wide at Harry. "Harry, my boy, Albus was just telling us about this wonderful idea of yours," he said, walking up to him and shaking his head.

"It's good to see you, Minister. Allow me to introduce my fellow champions; Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory; and last but not least, my best friend; Hermione."

Minister nodded at the named students, shaking only Viktor and Cedric's hands. _Moron._

Dumbledore took control of the meeting right away, conjuring seats for everyone with a silent wave of his wand. _Damn! I can barely transfigure a porcupine to pincushions and the man conjures multiple pieces of furniture with a silent wave like it's a damn Lumos Charm.  
_

"Please, take a seat, everyone," said Dumbledore. Harry sat on the loveseat, leaving enough room for Hermione to squeeze next to him. The bushy-haired bookworm took a notebook out of her bag right away, ready to take notes. "Now, Harry, why don't you tell us exactly what you planned?" The bright twinkle of the esteemed wrinkle's eyes was enough of a clue for Harry to know Dumbledore knew Harry didn't have a clue what to do.

 _But I am damn good at flying at the seat of my pants,_ he mused. He took a deep breath and began with no plan whatsoever, "Each champion will select their own team from the students of the three schools. Each team will play against each other once. The final will depend on whether we can convince a professional team. If we can, then the leading team will play against them in the final. If not, then the leader and runner-up will face each other for a final match."

"Three matches per team in the first stage, which means two games a week. Saturday and Sunday. We can sell tickets for the game to raise money for charity, especially if the ministry can invest money to built extra seats for the school pitch. Each team can design their own jerseys, sales of which will, again, go to the charity. To raise interest, we'll do a press conference. The champions can sign jerseys and photographs to raise money further. I'm thinking Holyhead Harpies would create further interest if we can get them to agree. We can even sell the snitches we catch."

Harry laughed. "I mean think about it: a jersey signed by Harry Potter, Viktor Krum and Gwenog Jones. I'm sure there is an older version of Ron out there who would sell his house to get his hands on it."

If Dumbledore was surprised, he didn't show it. "How about the logistics?"

"I'm hoping Mr. Bagman can referee the games. Who better to referee than a retired Quidditch star? Lee Jordan will be the commentator and we can invite the Wireless to broadcast the game for additional revenue. This will be a charity even so I don't think security is a big concern. A dozen or so aurors can handle it. Today is twenty-eighth. If we can get moving, we can have the first round of matches in two weeks time. The second round a week later, and the third round in twenty-second and twenty-third of December. The finalists can play before the Yule Ball. What better way to celebrate the yuletide?"

Fudge was drooling at the prospect of such a publicity stunt. "What about the ticket prices?"

"We shouldn't set the price too high. This isn't the World Cup. This is a bunch of kids playing, except for Viktor. For the initial three rounds, five to ten sickles. We can jack up the prices for signed merchandise for those with money. The final can be somewhere between fifteen sickles to two galleons."

He cocked his head and went silent for a moment. "I'm sure we can put Nimbus, Firebolt, Comet and Cleansweep against each other in a bidding war. The brooms matter little. Each team can have additional sponsors. We can invite other companies to open stands for a percentage of the profit. People can bid for a chance to have a meal with the champions after the games. We can turn the Chamber of Secrets into a tourist trap, show them a dead basilisk. We can give broom rides to children."

He chuckled. "I'm betting we can raise at least fifty thousand galleons. With that, we can buy new equipment for the school, create a new wing for St. Mungo's or open an orphanage. We can invest that money in a werewolf relief fund so they can buy government subsidised Wolfsbane at a cheaper price."

Harry stopped and waited for everyone to process the ideas.

It was Fleur who broke the silence. "Chamber of Secrets? A dead basilisk?"

Dumbledore looked as if he sucked a sour lemon for a moment, giving Harry a reproachful look, to which Harry shrugged unrepentantly. "We had a little scare two years ago-"

"There was nothing little about petrified students, Albus!" Fudge cut in before he realised he aired the dirty laundry of the school in front of guests.

"Yes, well, thanks to young Harry's timely intervention, the threat was handled before anyone got seriously hurt," Dumbledore glossed over, ignoring the blushing Minister of Magic.

Hermione chuckled, then went red when she realised she attracted the room's attention. "The part Headmaster glossed over was, Harry had to kill a sixty-foot basilisk to save a possessed student's life."

Shocked silence and a blushing Harry was the response Hermione's explanation received. "I had help," Harry mumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, a flaming bird, an old hat and a sword."

"How about a phoenix, the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor?" Harry shot back, forgetting the witnesses and oddly enjoying the small banter.

"Sure. But, you were twelve," Hermione exclaimed. "I have never even heard about anyone killing a basilisk, let alone doing it at twelve."

"That's because they are extremely rare."

Hermione laughed. "Their looks can kill."

"Fawkes blinded it."

"They are the most venomous creatures in the world and it bit you."

"Fawkes cried on the wound."

"It was still a sixty-foot giant snake!"

Two friends were so focused on their back and forth that they were unaware of the small crowd watching them with fascination.

"I still think you are scarier."

"Harry, that's so sweet of you," Hermione cooed.

Harry shrugged. "I try."

They went silent, lost in the banter and each other's eyes until Headmaster cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you for that delightful... explanation. The idea has merit, Harry, but we must consider it furt-"

Hermione's eyes went wide and her face went bright in excitement. She had an idea. "We should sell the basilisk part! It's basically a fortune sitting around in a chamber, rotting. The meat alone could earn enough to feed a family for a decade!"

Harry's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Why didn't we think of it sooner?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, again. "Because when I learn my friend killed a basilisk, the first thing I think of is not how much money we can make, but whether my heroic idiot of a friend is still alive." She thought for a moment before continuing, "If the corpse is still fresh, you can make thousands of galleons."

"Me?" Harry choked.

"Well, yes. The corpse is yours by law. You killed it, you get to keep it. Or sell it, as it is," she explained.

"Damn, I'm rich..er?" Harry exclaimed. "Anyway, if we sell it, I'll make sure a percentage of the proceeds goes to the charity we choose for the interschool Quidditch tournament." He thought for a second before continuing, "and a part of it should go to the victims of the basilisk. You, Ginny, Colin, Penelope, Filch. If she has a surviving family, Myrtle."

"What about Justin Finch-Fletchley?"

"Fuck him! The arsehole was the reason everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin. Besides, his father is an investment banker. He can buy Surrey county just for fun."

Hermione's surprise was clear on her face. "How do you know?"

"He's been bragging about it non-stop since the first year." Seeing Hermione's sceptical look, he explained further, "He's using his father's wealth as a pickup line. There are advantages to having Parvati and Lavender as housemates."

Dumbledore felt the need to cut into their conversation once again by clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Please, continue. I outlined my plan. It awaits your acceptance."

Dumbledore turned to the highest ministry official. "Cornelius, can the ministry spare money to improve our Quidditch pitch?"

"Thanks to the World Cup Finals, the ministry is in good shape, Albus. We can invest in a good cause like this," Fudge answered proudly.

"Ludo, is there anything you can add that Harry might have missed in his excitement?"

"Nothing comes to mind, Dumbledore. It'll be my honour to referee the games. I'll get in touch with the manager of Harpies and sound her out."

Fudge leaned forward. "I'll talk to Lucius. He has connections in Nimbus."

"Minister, I'd like to deal with the sponsorships myself. No offence to Mr. Malfoy but this will help me make real-world connections."

Bagman was vibrating with excitement in his seat. "We should get in touch with Rita for interviews."

"No," Harry declared forcefully. "Skeeter is already covering the Triwizard tournament and doing an awful job. I will not have this tournament dirtied by her lies. Find another reporter. While you are at it, contact other newspapers and magazines too. We'll have a joint press conference."

"And the dezigns of ze uniforms?" Madame Maxime spoke for the first time.

"I can have Parvati and Lavender design mine. I'm sure they'd love to design yours too. They love fashion and all that girly stuff," Harry offered, not seeing the indignation on the three females' faces. "We should each name our teams. Potter's Pigs? No. Potter's Pelicans? Hell, no! Hermione, help me out here. You are great at naming things. SPEW comes to mind."

"It's S.P.E..." Seeing Harry's smug grin, she stopped. "Oh, why am I even trying?"

"Potter's Phoenixes? Or Potter's Puffskeins?"

Hermione laughed. "You should go with Potter's Pixies. They are cute but they are also troublesome little bastards, like you."

Harry huffed in response. "I'm not cute. I'm manly and sexy," he said, puffing up his chest which had little muscle thanks to his upbringing. _Fucking Dursleys!_

Harry tried; tried really hard to ignore the snickers of his fellow champions and best friend. He failed and pouted. "I hate all of you."

"See, cute."

"Yes, 'e is a cute leettle boy," Fleur agreed with a grin, this time not sounding condescending.

"Again with the little boy!" Harry sniffed and complained good-naturedly.

"I envy your talent with the ladies, Potter," Cedric joked.

"Hem, hem." _I don't know why but I hate that sound,_ Harry thought with a shiver and turned to the amused Headmaster. "We'll leave designing your jerseys to the champions. I will deal with the press myself. That leaves us with the many other details we have yet to decide on."

"We should start with the sponsors, the press and new stands first. If we handle those three, the rest will fall into places," Harry offered.

Dumbledore nodded his acceptance. "Then Cornelius, you shall review the budget and contact the necessary people. I shall use my contacts to arrange a press conference and rally international support. Harry will handle the sponsorship deals and schedules, and Ludo can convince Holyhead Harpies."

 _It went better than I expected,_ Harry thought as he left the office with Hermione. _Maybe we can actually pull this off._


	3. Sticks

Three days later, Harry was preparing himself for an important meeting with broom companies. The meeting would be with the owners of Firebolt, Comet, Cleansweep, Nimbus, and two representatives from foreign companies. A Siberian manufacturer, the name of which Harry had no luck pronouncing and an Australian manufacturer called Clearsky.

This was the first step for a successful tournament. He needed this meeting to go right so he could announce it during the press conference three days later.

Like every stressful situation, his answer to the stress was jumping on a broom. This time, though, he was refraining from doing crazy stunts, a compromise Hermione and he agreed on, and there was no bright sun.

"Harry!" he heard a feminine voice yell and drifted down to see it belong to Parvati, Potter's Pixies' unofficial uniform designer.

 _I will get my revenge on you for that name, Miss Granger._ Harry had been trying for the last three days to convince people his team's name should be Potter's Phoenixes. A phoenix saved his life, he would remind them, it should be the obvious choice. He was too late though. Somehow, Hermione and Cedric convinced everyone his team's name is and should be Potter's Pixies. _I don't know why the bastard comment didn't bother me as much as the cute comment did._

"What can I for you, Parvati?" Harry asked when he touched down on the ground.

The Indian girl stood next to Hermione, excited. "Lavender and I finished the uniforms. Here," she thrust the parchments in her hands to Harry.

His lips curving upwards in amusement, Harry took a look at the parchments. There were two versions of the same design. One green and silver, the other blue and gold. Green and blue were the primary colours of the uniforms while the secondary colours started with shoulder pads and forming a thinning line down on sides of the arms and torso. The design was sleek and the moving drawing showed how the secondary colours would add a blur on player's sides like an arrow, creating a masterful image.

The real sized Cornish Pixies right above the heart on both uniforms earned a hidden chuckle and a fake pout from Harry. "Potter's Phoenixes! My team's name is Potter Phoenixes!"

"Just admit defeat, Potter," said Hermione, grinning. "These are great, Parvati. You and Lavender are very good at this," she commented, already having seen the parchment.

"Never," Harry vowed. "But as much as it pains me to say, Hermione is right. These designs are great."

Harry felt a little uncomfortable with the pleasure Parvati took from their compliment, especially Hermione's. "Thanks!" she gushed. "We had a lot of fun with these."

"Have you ever considered opening your own clothing shop?" he asked.

Dark-skinned girl's shoulders dropped a little. "I think my father wants Padma and me to take over the family business."

 _Dare I say Parvati doesn't want that?_ "What does your father do?"

"He's in import-export; importing silk and potion ingredients found in India and exporting British goods to India."

"Sounds lucrative and boring. If you ever decide to become a disappointment, keep me in mind as an investor," he offered and turned to Hermione. "What did Mr. Jimmywick said?"

"He offered you twenty thousand galleons plus ten percent of the sales," answered his assistant, though he could never call her that out loud. _She'd cut me to pieces, reattach those pieces, then pour gasoline down my throat and burn me inside and out._

"And what do you think?" he asked, not having any clue about how much a basilisk goes for.

Hermione shook her head. "I contacted the goblins. They offered a hundred thousand just for the meat, which is so much more than my initial guess but I guess they consider it a delicacy. Other parts, namely, the parts that make great potions ingredients, worth even more. In my estimation, the basilisk is worth more than two hundred. The main problem is selling all of it in a single time would flood the market and devalue what you have. The sale needs to be spread out but storage becomes a problem. Plus, preparing and shipping the basilisk would be a nightmare, and we don't have the time to deal with that."

"Tell him I want Fifty thousand and thirty percent of the sales or he can forget it. And I want an airtight contract. I don't trust him not to fuck me over. Twenty thousand will go to the four victims for reparations." Glaring at Hermione, he added, "You included. You will also get an additional five percent from the sales for your help in both identifying the basilisk and selling it. That is final. We'll give Filch two thousand and Ron three thousand."

Hermione huffed and puffed but didn't refuse. "Professor Dumbledore asked you to put aside some ingredients for school use."

Harry chuckled. "In other words, Snape ranted and cried." He shrugged. "I'll put aside a vial of the poison for myself. We can as well do the same for Snape." He winked at Hermione. "I can't refuse that adorable hook-nosed man."

Hermione snickered while checking the time. "We have to get going. The broom-people will arrive in an hour." She pinched her nose and continued, "And you need to shower. You stink."

"I stink, do I?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione must have seen the hidden mischievousness on his eyes because she was on guard. "Don't you dare, Harry Potter!"

Harry ignored her proclamation and stalked the small distance between them away, not giving Hermione the chance to escape.

"Don't you dare. No! Agh!"

Five minutes later, two friends were laying on the wet ground side by side, panting and laughing. When her breathing returned to normal, Hermione checked herself over and discovered herself covered in mud. "I hate you, Harry," she declared in a dejected tone.

"You love me."

She shook her head. "No, I'm positive I hate you. It will take me ages to get all this mud off of my nightmare of a hair."

Harry turned to lie on his side so he could see his friend. "I like your hair."

Hermione mirrored his movement. "Don't be ridiculous."

The messy-haired boy shook his head. "No, I do. Because it helps me recognise the mood you are in by the bushiness. The more stressed you are, the bushier your hair is. It's like an alert system." He chuckled and in a posh tone added, "On a scale or one to the bush of nightmare, how stressed out is Hermione Granger about the final exams."

Hermione, for a reason Harry couldn't discern, blushed lightly and huffed. "Try to wash and dry my hair and you'll appreciate my suffering."

"Are you offering to bathe with me, Miss Granger?" Harry asked, his eyebrows dancing in a poor imitation of seductiveness, causing Hermione's blush to increase. "Today, my schedule is full but I'll keep your offer in mind for the future."

"Prat!"

Harry groaned and got up, holding out his hand to help Hermione do the same. "We need to get going."

Hermione stood up and glanced around, searching for Parvati who was long gone. "Let's go."

Forty minutes later, Harry and Hermione stood in a classroom, empty except for a desk and a handful of chairs. Hermione was playing with her hair; trying, with no hope of success, to get the mop to dry. "I give up," she sobbed, throwing her hands in the air. "It just won't dry."

Harry palmed his wand with unfocused eyes and cast a strong hot-air charm at his friend, earning a shriek from her. "There. All dry."

"A little warning next time, Harry," Hermione said, a hand on her chest. Seeing no response coming, she stepped near the boy. "You have no need to be nervous, Harry. If they weren't willing to sponsor this tournament, they wouldn't be here."

Harry shook his head and focused on his friend's face, only now aware of how close she was. _Since when Hermione's eyes so chocolaty and beautiful? And why is it getting hot in here?_ "If this doesn't go well, the whole tournament might burn down to ashes before it even starts, Hermione. We- I need this to go my way."

Hermione put a firm hand on Harry's arm and squeezed. "You will do great. You are Harry Potter. You can do nothing less," she reassured.

Harry chuckled through his nervousness. "Don't tell me the brightest witch of her age is a member of my fan club."

"In your dreams, Potter," Hermione denied. "But I know you. I know you can do anything you set your mind to."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, he didn't know what, but before he could, the door opened and in walked the other three champions. He took a step back from Hermione. "What are you guys doing here?"

It was Hermione who answered. "I asked them to come. I thought you could use the support, and honestly, Viktor's presence will help with the broom-people."

The darkness from three days ago returned with a vengeance to Harry's stomach but he ignored it. He didn't recognise the reason for it and this wasn't the time to dwell on it. "Thanks, guys."

"Bienvenue, leettle boy."

Harry rolled his eyes at the French beauty. "Yes, that fills me with confidence."

The blonde flipped her hair and smiled. "I thought it would."

Before they could converse any longer, the door opened once again, this time by McGonagall, four men and two women following her. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, your guests are here," she said, her tone betraying her discomfort.

Harry took charge, unwilling to hide behind Hermione's brains. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. If you'd take your seats, we can begin." After everyone but the champions and Hermione was seated, he walked in front of the table and continued, "I will get right to the point. As I mentioned in my letters, we are organising a Quidditch tournament between three schools. Four teams will play each other, each led by a champion. We want you to sponsor the teams."

"When you say sponsor, what did you have in mind?" a brown-haired man with square-rimmed glasses asked. He was a short, rotund man who screamed retired seeker. _Timothy Thornton,_ Harry guessed.

"There are two ways we can do this. Each of you can sponsor one team or one of you can sponsor all four teams. It depends on your offers. We will choose the most lucrative one because this isn't about the brooms. I am in touch with several companies for various sponsorship deals. We plan on turning this tournament to a media circus to raise interest. Ministry is footing the bill for new stands so we can sell more tickets. Ludo Bagman and I are working on Puddlemere United and Holyhead Harpies to play against the best team of the four in a final exhibition game. Every knut we make in this tournament will go to charity."

"So, this is for charity?" a tanned woman, the representative from Clearsky, asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "No, we just wanted to play Quidditch." Everyone chuckled at that except McGonagall, whose lips curved slightly upward which was equal to full-blown laughter for her. "Headmaster Dumbledore cancelled Quidditch this year because of the Triwizard tournament. I made a counter-argument and things got out of hand."

Harry leaned into Hermione and whispered, "Probably why I let you do my thinking most of the time."

"You still haven't told us what kind of sponsorship deal you had in mind," said a severe looking man with receding hairlines, leaning back in his chair.

Harry leaned back to the desk he was in front of and pushing down his irritation, Harry answered. "Like I said, it depends on you. We need brooms, obviously. At the end of the tournament, we will sell the brooms. If you want to be the primary sponsor of the tournament, it will mean donating twenty-eight brooms. If you want to sponsor a single team, it will mean donating seven brooms," Harry explained.

"We thought we'd have a little auction between ourselves. For example, if you want to sponsor Viktor's team, make us an offer. Seven brooms plus how much you are willing to pay extra."

There was a momentary silence, broken by the confidently smirking Russian lady, Alexandra Deravic who pointed a long manicured finger at Harry. "We'll pay six thousand for your team."

 _Okay, that's a lot higher than I expected._

Next offer came from the owner of Nimbus, David Whitehorn. "A thousand for Krum's team."

 _That's more like what I expected._

The meeting dissolved into chaos following that. Everyone but the Miss Deravic wanted Viktor Krum's team. In the end, Comet won the rights to sponsor Viktor Krum by offering to pay four thousand galleons.

Rest of the meeting went in a more civilised fashion. No one even tried to outbid the Siberian company. Cedric was sponsored by Nimbus who agreed on two thousand and Cleansweep won the French beauty by offering two and a half thousand galleons.

The companies also agreed to pay an extra twenty-five percent to their team if they make it to the final.

The maker of Firebolt, knowing he was already the market leader, didn't even try. He sat back and enjoyed the show while the Australian man made a token effort when he lost Krum.

As soon as they signed the contracts and the 'broom-people', as Hermione called them, left, his best friend was all over him, hugging him in celebration. "That was great! We raised fourteen and a half thousand galleons. More than twice what we were hoping for."

Harry laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. "I know. Am I great, or what?"

As an answer, Hermione pushed him away and slapped his shoulder. "I told you, you needn't worry."

"Yeah. What I don't understand is why Miss Deravic offered six thousand from the get-go."

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, in her know-it-all mode. "They want to enter the broomstick market in Western Europe and what better way to start than the Boy-Who-Lived riding their broom?"

Harry bit down his irritation and smiled. "Well, that's good, I guess." He grinned. "So, Miss Delacour, how does it feel to have this 'leettle boy' get paid more than yourself?"

Said girl's face morphed into a faux-offended. "I don't know what she was zinkin', paying that muz money for a runt like you."

"Ouch, that hurt," Harry said with a hand on his heart. "I wonder how good the Siberian brooms are."

"Haff tried their broom. It is good. Not fast as Firebolt but good," said Krum.

Harry winked at Hermione. "Shame. I hoped you would get the best broom so you could at least offer a competition."

"I can beat you vithout a broom, boy," Krum laughed.

Harry was about to respond when Cedric talked for the first time after the meeting. "That went well." Everyone turned to him, eyebrows raised, with 'you think?' expressions. "We raised over five times what my father makes in a year."

"And we already reached the quarter of our lower estimates," Harry added. "I'd say we deserve to celebrate with butterbeer."

"Butterbeer? Leettle boy afraid to drink wine?"

Harry smiled and turned to Hermione. "Can I? Can I? Can I, please, drink wine?"

Hermione blushed and narrowed her eyes. "No."

"You are the worst," Harry declared with a pout.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow is a school day. You mustn't get drunk."

"Troublesome bastard."

"Prat."


	4. Stones

Another three days later, Harry was - surprise, surprise - flying to relax before the press conference to announce the Interschool Quidditch Tournament. When he had told Hermione of his intentions to fly his nerves away, she had responded with a standard teenage eye roll.

This time, he wasn't alone. The other three champions were with him in the air. While this would be Cedric and Fleur's first interview of this magnitude, Krum was used to the pressures of his fame so he was there to keep them company.

Harry wasn't looking forward to this. So far, his experience with the press had been abysmal, what with Rita Skeeter and her love of scandalous and misleading articles.

 _Tears did not fill my eyes during any part of that interview! I may have been tongue-tied but who wouldn't be when she shoves her breasts in their face?_

Harry was unwilling to admit it, even to himself, but that 'interview', if you can call it that, was a big blow to Harry's conscience. He could deal with being portrayed as an attention-seeker rebel wanna-be. Even being called an emotional teenager with self-image issues wasn't a problem. He just couldn't deal with that bitch insinuating he insulted his parents' memories!

His parents!

Taking a quick dive to the ground to clear dark thoughts on what he'd like to do to the blonde reporter, Harry let go of everything and focused on the wind blowing past him.

Half an hour later, the four champions were on the ground, grinning like loons and going on their separate ways to shower and change. Harry stole a glance at the sauntering Fleur, her hips swaying, emphasising her figure. _I wonder if Fleur showers naked?_

He watched as Fleur turned and shot a wink and a cocky smirk at him. _Bad Harry! Bad Harry!_

Harry shook his head in dismay and embarrassment at getting caught and turned to see his best friend glowering. "What?"

"Et tu, Harry?" Hermione said, lifting her nose as if she smelled rotten fish.

"Oh, get off your high horse, you hypocrite. Don't think I haven't seen your looks at the Quidditch star's abs," Harry groused, far more upset about it than he was willing to admit.

Hermione, now blushing like a Christmas tree, huffed and ignored him. "Let's go. You still need to open the chamber for Mr. Jimmywick before showering. Then you need to meet with Honeydukes' owner to sign the contract. I still can't believe they have samples ready already."

"Well, it was a brilliant idea by a brilliant witch. All they needed to do was get the photos and thanks to Colin and his stalker-like tendencies, it wasn't difficult. So, the credit goes to you." Harry grinned at his friend's discomfort and pleasure as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

They navigated their way to the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom where Mr. Jimmywick was waiting for them. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you again."

Harry nodded in response and shook the long, brown-haired man's hand. "Thank you. It's good to see you too. Do you have the contract with you?"

The tall, muscular man nodded, taking out a piece of parchment from an inner pocket of his cloak. He pointed at the bottom of the parchment and handed Harry a blood-red quill. "As soon as you sign here, we can begin. I don't know if I should be offended by your requirements or admire you for your negotiation skills."

Harry signed the document with a hiss, a vague version of his signature appearing on his hand. "No offence intended, sir. I'm just looking out for my best interests."

The man took the document, inspected it and signed it with a flourish, having done so before. "No doubt. Now, if you'd open the chamber, Mr. Potter, my colleague and I can get started," he said, pointing towards a rotund man who reminded Harry of Pettigrew.

Harry nodded and walked into the once again flooded bathroom before hissing at the sinks. I still feel silly talking to a sink.

"I will come back to let you out tomorrow morning," Harry reminded and left the men to do their work. He put an arm around Hermione's shoulder, feeling good about himself, having just earned over thirty times an average wizard makes in a year, with even more to come. "Who says heroes don't get paid well?"

"Don't get cocky, Harry. It doesn't suit you," Hermione warned.

"I'm not. I swear. But it feels good to have a tangible reward for all the shit we've been through. Don't get me wrong, I didn't go down to the chamber for money. I ventured down there to save my best friend's sister and prevent the school from closing. But this way, it appears more like a victory instead of a tragedy averted, you know."

"I don't but I guess I understand."

"Besides, imagine of all the books you can buy with the money you make," Harry said, poking Hermione in the ribs with a grin.

Hermione jumped away from him, glaring before nodding in agreement and shivering with pleasure. "I know. I can't wait to go to Diagon Alley," she gushed.

"There is the Hermione I know and love." After a few seconds in awkward silence, what he said caught up to him, causing him to blush. "Okay, let's hurry. I can't wait to get out of these filthy clothes."

After a hot and relaxing shower with even more relaxing activities of the carnal type, Harry walked out of the Gryffindor with his assistant in tow. They strolled towards the same classroom they met the broom-people in, both lost in thought.

For Harry, last week was a confusing and exciting one. Everything was developing far too fast, and he hadn't had the time to take a moment and digest. He was the main organiser of a tournament. A tournament that was well on its way to becoming 'the event' of the year. So far, it looked as if it might overshadow the Triwizard Tournament. While they hadn't announced it yet, everyone noticed what was happening and excitement was palpable everywhere he looked.

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Certain parties had taken upon themselves to create trouble. Ahem - Malfoy - ahem. During breakfast one morning, the blonde ferret had ranted about how he, the most talented Quidditch player Hogwarts had, should be a part of the tournament. Not wanting to go off-script, he even mentioned his father.

That afternoon, Lucius Malfoy, with his lap-dog, demanded his presence in Dumbledore's office to inform Harry his son would form a fifth team for the tournament.

Harry had burst into laughter. After wrestling control of his faculties, he informed the haughty man that no, his son wouldn't be playing unless selected for his merits by a champion. Malfoy, with the support of the Minister, had threatened to cancel the tournament. To which, he told them they were welcome to try if they could explain to the public why they were against this 'charity event'.

All the while, the Headmaster had sat behind his desk and sucked lemon drops, his eyes twinkling like a demented Christmas tree.

When Harry didn't budge, Malfoy tried to involve his name in another manner; by offering money for putting the name 'Malfoy' next to the tournament name. Harry had countered him by saying if he wanted to help, he should donate money anonymously like Harry would do with basilisk money.

Unwilling to seem cheap against a schoolboy, Malfoy had agreed to donate ten thousand galleons, causing Harry to scoff but accept.

Rita also had taken it upon herself to announce the tournament in her own style; saying Harry was doing it for publicity and fame. Thankfully, Dumbledore had already written to Barnabas Cuffe, telling him if Daily Prophet wanted to report the tournament, they must wait for the conference and they better send another reporter. Harry was sure Rita would get her revenge.

If Harry was honest with himself, he was proud and surprised by how well the preparations were going. Oh, he knew Dumbledore and Bagman had a big part in the smoothing things over for Harry and the rest. Though Dumbledore acted like Harry was in charge, Harry was aware, or at least suspected, the headmaster was manipulating things behind his back to make sure things worked out.

Bagman was the biggest surprise, the ace in Harry's sleeve. He worked with a vehemence and excitement that was contagious. The man loved Quidditch and his debts were extra motivation for him.

It was just yesterday, he related Holyhead Harpies' agreement to play in the final to Harry. He had explained that the management was unsure if they could convince the players to give up their holiday. So he had convinced the players himself.

All in all, everything was going far better than they should and Harry was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. _'Cause there is no way I am that lucky._

The raven-haired boy pushed down his fears and walked into the classroom to find it already occupied by the lady of Honeydukes, Samantha Flume. He smiled at the elderly woman and shook her hand. "Mrs. Flume, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The grandmotherly woman gave him a warm smile. "You as well, child. You don't seem surprised to meet me."

Harry considered making a joke but decided against it. "There is a Muggle saying: there is a woman behind every successful man. Most people misunderstand this quote. To me, it means if a man wants to be successful, he ought to let a woman do his thinking." He grinned. "That's why I let Hermione act as my brains."

The grandmotherly woman's eyes got a predatory gleam as she looked at Hermione. "I can see why. You will do well in our world, dear." Turning back to Harry, she said, "Don't let this one go."

Harry smiled at his flabbergasted friend. "I don't plan to." If the congratulatory pat on the cheek he received in response made him feel like a toddler, he didn't show it.

"Now," the old lady began, "Let's get down to business." She waved her hand towards a desk with various versions of the new line of chocolate frogs. Or that's what Harry thought they were.

He was wrong.

As he opened the first packet, he realised his mistake. Mr. and Mrs. Flume far exceeded their expectations, instead of creating new Chocolate Frog Cards, they created a new line of products altogether. Instead of a frog, the box contained a flying broom and a snitch, zigzagging a few inches off the table; the brown broom following the white snitch around.

Harry could see the cocky grin on Mrs. Flume's face in his periphery. "We expanded on missy's idea. A new line of products focused solely on Quidditch. This tournament will be our market test to see if there is enough interest. If there is, we'll first expand it to include every player in the BQL (British Islands Quidditch League), then we'll expand overseas."

"I know a few people who would love the idea," Harry commented, thinking of his redheaded friend who was spending his days practising for the upcoming tournament. "How much is the cost of production per unit?"

"The edibles cost the same as a chocolate frog. Same for the cards," was the old lady nonanswer. "Now, I have the contract right here," she pulled out a long parchment, likes of which would give a teacher nightmare.

She gingerly took a seat and cleared a part of the table to place the contract. "Now, as we agreed, Honeydukes will pay you nineteen thousand galleons in advance. Ten thousand for the rights of your name and picture indefinitely. Seven thousand galleons for the rights of Mr. Krum's name and picture indefinitely. Two thousand galleons for the rights of the other two champions until the end of the Triwizard Tournament. You and Mr. Krum will receive five percent of future profits, starting at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. If we expand into Quidditch, and if you sign a professional contract, you will receive an additional two-point-five percent of the future profits," the woman droned on. "Keep in mind, the percentages I gave you are for profits, not sales."

The woman took a deep breath before continuing. "You will also get five percent of the profits made during the Quidditch tournament. In exchange, the champions will sign fifty cards each to raise interest. Honeydukes will open a stand near the Quidditch pitch and can hire up to three vendors as long as they are students at Hogwarts. We will pay the hired students five sickles an hour of game time, including the time-outs and penalty shots. Honeydukes will supply the champions with products for the photo shoot, which will take place in three days time. The photos will be displayed on the advertisement boards during time-outs and pre-game workouts."

During the whole monologue/explanation, Harry did his best to listen but by the time she finished, he was cross-eyed and lost. He didn't even hear the snickers coming from Hermione.

"I think we lost Harry, Mrs. Flume."

The old lady guffawed, she guffawed at Harry. "I can see that. Good thing he has you dear, or he'd mess this whole tournament up," she said, patting Hermione on her legs.

When did Hermione sit next to Mrs. Flume? Harry groaned. "Harry doesn't have the talent or patience for contract law, let's make fun of him. Ha. Ha." He pouted adorably, or so he thought, before grinning. "It's still my name that's making money."

"And if this lovely girl, here, didn't drive a good bargain, you would receive a quarter of what you are getting."

 _Now, that's just insulting._

"All you need to do is, sign the contract, Harry," Hermione explained like she was talking to a little child.

"Fine," Harry sniffed, "I'll sign your precious contract. But I want chocolate."

Hermione grinned at him. "You can have chocolate, Harry," she said but when Harry moved to take one, she swatted his hand. "After you sign it."

Harry pouted but did as ordered, turning his attention back to the chocolates not a moment later.

"Isn't he cute?" Hermione stage-whispered to the woman behind Honeydukes.

After another fifteen minutes spent discussing the finer points of the deal, the other champions joined them, followed five minutes later by Bagman, Fudge and a small battalion of reporters. Dumbledore and the other two heads of schools had informed him of their decision to sit this part out. 'It's the champions time to shine', they had said.

 _I think Dumbledore may have resorted to threats to convince Karkaroff not take the spotlight next to his champion._

After the pleasantries, Harry took charge of the meeting. He was getting used to being in charge, a new feeling for him for sure. "As you have heard, Hogwarts will host a small Quidditch tournament between the three schools and four champions. Each of the champions will lead their team, hoping to win the right to play against Britain's own Holyhead Harpies in the final. Now, I can go on and on about all the preparations we have done for this tournament but instead, we shall do this in a question-answer session. So, who wants to go first?"

There were nine reporters in the room, three of them foreign and a blonde Ravenclaw, who was there for a reason he couldn't discern. Harry pointed at a buxom redhead who raised her hand before Harry even finished his sentence. "Arabella Thickbuckle, of Daily Prophet. Whose idea was it to organise this tournament?"

Harry saw Fudge open his mouth to answer but didn't give the man a chance. "It was a spontaneous idea Viktor and I came up with after a flying session. It evolved from there."

Viktor shook his head in disagreement. "Ve said ve should play Quidditch. You made it a tournament for charity."

Harry ignored the Bulgarian and pointed at a dark-haired man. "Jameson Entwistle, Seeker Weekly. Won't the tournament be one-sided with the star of the last World Cup playing against students?"

Harry chuckled and turned to Viktor. "You want to take that one?"

Viktor nodded. "Quidditch is a team game. I can't vin before ve play."

"What he means is Harry Potter is better than him so he can't win, period," Harry announced with a faux-arrogant grin on his face.

"Maybe you need to remember the last game we played against each other, Potter," Cedric cut in, winking at Harry.

"Let's not go there." Harry pointed at a blonde man with handle moustache.

"The Wizarding World News. There are rumours about sponsorship deals for the tournament. What can you tell us about that?"

Fudge opened his mouth once again, this time earning himself a hiss from Mrs. Flume and a whispered, "Let the boy talk, you bumbling fool. This is their organisation."

Harry held in his smile at the lady's anger for his sake and answered, "Ah, yes. Let me explain the financial aspects of this tournament. There are various sponsorship deals already agreed on and it looks like there are more to come. Four broom companies will outfit the teams, one company each. Honeydukes agreed to sponsor the tournament and create a special line of products just for this. The ministry agreed to foot the bill for an improved Quidditch pitch with more seats. The money from the sponsors, tickets, merchandise sales, everything, every knut made in this tournament will be donated. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will receive a percentage of the funds to make renovations and improvements on the schools. Most of the money will go to the spell damage and paediatric wards of St. Mungo's. And the rest will go to a funding for a government subsidised Wolfsbane potion for Werewolves who can't afford it."

Harry waited for the furious scribbling of the reporters to finish before speaking again. "Let me reiterate, we will make no money from this. While this tournament started out as an excuse for us to play Quidditch, it evolved into something more. So far, we have raised sixty thousand galleons thanks to contributions from Belyyveter, Nimbus, Comet, Cleansweep, Honeydukes, and two private citizens. And the tournament hasn't started yet. This is an unprecedented number for the wizarding world and we want to do even better. We invite everyone to come and watch us play. For a galleon, you can watch two entertaining games, including the world's greatest seeker and Viktor Krum who is the second best."

That earned him chuckles all around and a scowl from Viktor.

He pointed at the blonde girl standing right in front of him. She had been waving her hand since the start of the conference and Harry knew, he knew he wouldn't like it. "Isabella Davies, of Witch Weakly, Mr. Potter. My question is for you."

 _Sigh._

"Rita Skeeter recently reported a budding relationship between you and a Muggleborn student. Is there any truth to the rumours and does it mean you are off the dating market?"

 _Fuck you, Blondie_. "That 'Muggleborn' student is Hermione Granger, sitting right next to me. The answer is no and yes." Harry chuckled at the confused look on the blonde's face and the blush on Hermione's. "Hermione and I aren't dating, yet," he answered, the last word a whisper only Hermione heard.

He could feel a headache coming but he fought through it, recognising he brought this on himself. "And yes, I am off the dating market. Not because I am dating anyone, but because I have neither the time nor the desire to be in a relationship at the moment. I am a fourteen-year-old boy who is competing in a deadly tournament and organising one of the biggest fundraisers ever seen in Britain. I don't have the time to scratch my head, let alone start a relationship."

The blonde scribbled furiously and asked, "Who said anything about a relationship?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze and flushed bright red.

 _Oh, Blondie._

"Next question."

The meeting continued in the same vein for another half hour with all kinds of questions and statements. Statements including a more in-depth explanation of the sponsorship deals and the new line of products from Honeydukes.

In the end, it was Harry who broke everything off, unable to continue to fight his headache. "Before we finish, I'd like to thank the Ministry of Magic and the heads of the three schools for their unending support in making this tournament happen. I'd also want to thank Holyhead Harpies for agreeing to play against us, knowing they will lose." That earned a few chuckles. "I also want to thank Mr. Bagman for all the hard work he has put in and will continue to put in. But most of all, I want to thank my dear friend, Hermione. She has been working day and night for the last week, and without her help, none of this would be possible. That's all folks. I hope to see you at our first match. Thank you."

After taking a few photos, the reporters all left with Fudge and Mrs. Flume, leaving the champions, Hermione and Bagman alone. As soon as the door closed, Harry sagged on his seat. "Thank fuck, it's over."

"Language, Harry," Hermione admonished tiredly. "It went well though."

"Yeah, if only I didn't have to keep answering questions about my non-existing love life."

Cedric chuckled, "I don't know. I think lovely Miss Davies was asking those questions for her own sake."

"You should catch up to her and offer her an inclusive interview in one of the broom closets, Harry," Bagman joked.

Harry pretended to ponder about it for a moment, watching Hermione's reaction in his periphery. _Eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, cheeks red. Miss Granger is mad._ "Nah. I'm not foolish enough to leave a room Fleur Delacour is in," Harry said with a grin.

Fleur threw her hair to a side and in a low voice, she said, "Dreem on, leettle boy."

"Oh, would you like to hear what I dreamed about during my shower then?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, then grimaced at the elbow Hermione jammed into his stomach.

 _Fleur blushed! Damn. Even her blush is sexy. No regrets._ "Anyway, I think I will call it a day and hit the common room."

Everyone voice their agreements and they separated but not before a parting question from Bagman. "Harry, what do you think we should do about betting? It's a big part of any Quidditch game."

Harry grinned at the obvious man. "Why don't you discuss it with the Weasley twins? They are the resident gamblers." Bagman flushed red and stammered so he cut the man some slack. "Why don't you send them my way if they give you trouble? I'm sure between the four of us, we can come up a compromise."

After putting a floor between them and the gambling man, Hermione couldn't help herself. "Why would you help that degenerate fraud?"

"I may not be a fan of the man or his morals but he put a lot of effort into this, Hermione. I am more than willing to pay a hundred galleons for the hard work."

Hermione went silent for over a few minutes, which worried Harry. Silent Hermione meant plotting Hermione. Plotting Hermione could mean anything from making thousands of galleons, to living in the library for weeks on end or suffering her wrath.

 _Please, Lord, let it be something good. Please._

"Harry," Hermione whispered, casting her eyes on her shoes. "What did you mean by it?"

Harry stopped walking, knowing whatever this was, it was important to Hermione. Important enough to make her nervous which was a rarity. "What did I mean by what?" he asked, putting a finger under Hermione's chin to get her to look at him.

Hermione looked into his eyes, not confident enough to talk above a whisper, but trusting in the strength of her relationship with Harry enough to not shy away. "Why did you finish with 'yet' when that girl asked you if you and I were dating?"

Harry smiled at the most confident girl he knew, understanding where this insecurity comes from. He shrugged. "I - ah- I don't know. Doesn't that seem to be the logical direction we are going?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "I mean, I- we spend every waking moment together. We get along great and can converse silently. I'm not sure if you find me attractive but I do. F- Find you attractive, I mean."

"You do?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide in wonder.

 _I thought it was obvious._ "I do," Harry answered solemnly. Hermione rewarded him with a dazzling smile that made his stomach do a free-fall.

 _Damn. She has a beautiful smile._

"Come on," she said, locking her arm with his. "You have homework to do."

"Aargh! I take it back. I hate you."

"You love me."

"No, I'm positive I hate you."

Hermione put a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "I- I find you attractive too," she confessed with a delightful flush on her face.

 _For the first time in my life, it is good to be Harry Potter._


	5. The Other Shoe

The next morning, after letting Mr. Jimmywick out of the chamber, Harry walked into Great Hall to face tense silence and angry glares from the Hogwarts' student population once again. _Why does this feel familiar?_ he thought as he walked to his house table and sat next to Hermione. "What do they assume I did this time?"

Hermione, who was glaring at every breathing thing, just pointed to a newspaper, to which she had already directed her anger. Harry carefully straightened Daily Prophet before reading the headlines. 'Donation to his ego' was the one that caught his attention, written by Rita Skeeter.

 _Well, that was unexpected yet foreseeable._

The article started out by praising the idea for a Quidditch tournament between three schools for charity. It praised the champions for coming up with the idea, a wonderful paragraph really. Except there was no mention of Harry anywhere in that part.

 _Which is not a problem,_ he lied to himself, _I don't need the recognition or the praises._

The next part didn't have the praises first part had. It was basically a take-down piece aimed at Harry. First, Rita questioned the wisdom of entrusting such an important event to Harry Potter. A student known for his love of attention and disregard for rules. 'How can we trust this reckless boy with our donations?' Rita had asked.

The next part had Malfoy Sr.'s fingerprints all over it. Rita answered her own question with quotes from an anonymous source. This source claimed Harry refused to cooperate with those wiser than him, his ego unable to handle being told what to do. They even claimed Harry refused a generous donation from Malfoy because it was larger than his own.

 _I wonder who was this mysterious source._

When he finished the article, Harry laughed and focused his attention on the food, not seeing the glare Hermione turned his way. "And what is so funny?" the girl asked archly.

Harry, not realising the slippery slope he's on, answered without looking up from his food, "The article."

"And what's funny about the article, Potter? Afraid you won't get the people to stroke your ego?" came the unwelcome voice of Draco Malfoy.

Harry raised his head this time. "Ah, the amazing bouncing ferret. I was wondering when you would show up," the green-eyed wizard drawled, turning around slowly. "Came to gloat on your daddy's successful acquisition?"

The blonde looked confused, copying his two tails with a comical accuracy. "What?"

"I'm just wondering how much dear Lucius paid for that article. I'm worried, you see. After he paid so much to stay out of prison, it must have put a dent in your finances."

The blonde boy laughed at that. "You do not understand how rich we are, do you? But then again, how can you? Your mommy and daddy weren't around to teach you these things."

Harry wanted, oh-so-much, to punch that arrogant and cruel smirk off the boy's face but he didn't. "No, they weren't. They fought against a psychopath, you see? The same psychopath whose robes your father kissed."

The raven-haired boy scratched his chin. "I wonder though. I know for a fact if my parents were alive, I would have siblings. Why don't you have one? Is it because your father has issues performing his husbandly duties? Or is it because after they had you, they realised incest wasn't all it's cracked up to be?"

The normally pale boy reddened at the insult and glared. "You will curse yourself for insulting Malfoy family, Scarhead!" he announced and whirled around to leave.

"Tell your father the answer is still no," Harry said loudly to the retreating boy, turning back to the table. "He can threaten me with cancelling the tournament all he wants, I won't allow you to form a fifth team. Daily Prophet may consider it okay to sell their integrity but I'm not a whore. Can you say the same thing for your mother?"

"Furnunculus!"

Harry jumped out of his seat in reflex but he needn't. The curse missed him, slamming into a wide-eyed Hermione's back, causing ugly boils to break out in her bronze face. Harry froze for a moment, but the tears on his best friend's eyes brought him out of his shock.

Now seeing red, Harry lost all control of his anger and actions. Closing the distance between him and the blonde boy in two strides, he swung his right arm with all he had. He ignored the blood sprouting out of the blonde's nose, continued pummelling the boy. "You had enough of you! You come up, talk shit and when I talk back, you either run to your psychopath father or try to curse me behind my back!"

He felt arms trying to drag him away but pushed back, punching the boy again. "This is the second time you hexed Hermione and I. Will. Not. Have. It!"

"Mr. Potter, that's enough!"

"You reckon you are something special? Well, I got news for you, you cowardly arsehole: you are not! You are average at everything you do." The hands became more insistent and pulled him back but Harry didn't stop talking. "You are nothing but a spoilt brat with an over-inflated ego. Keep dreaming you are better than me. Keep telling yourself you will make me regret. At the end of the day, you are nothing. Nothing!"

Harry was unaware of anything but the bleeding boy as he let the hands drag him to the same antechamber he went to after the champion selection. As the door closed, cutting off his line of vision to the broken boy, he stood there, panting, his hands bleeding.

"You were out of line, Mr. Potter!" he heard McGonagall say in a tight voice. "Not only you insulted a student, you attacked him in the middle of Great Hall!"

Harry turned to his head of house and glared. "And why were you silent while he insulted me and attacked Hermione? Why are you always blind when we are the ones to be insulted and attacked but when we respond in kind, you are all about the rules?"

"That's another week of detention for disrespecting your teacher," the strict witch said. "Besides the month of detention for insulting and attacking a fellow student."

Harry chuckled, his anger turning him blind at the danger. "And what will Malfoy's punishment be?"

"That is for Professor Snape to decide."

Harry laughed out loud this time. "So no punishment. Unless Malfoy gets the same punishment I do, you can forget it, Professor. I'm sick and tired of the preferential treatment."

"You are on a thin ice, Mr. Potter. I suggest you consider your next words carefully," warned McGonagall, her fury clear in her face.

"Oh, I'm too far gone to consider anything, Professor," Harry said honestly. "I remember when Malfoy announced his wish for Muggleborn students to die in my second year. I also remember you there was no punishment. You lost the right to your high-horse that day, Madam."

"Harry, that is enough," Dumbledore commanded as soon as he entered the room. His voice was calm as always but Harry heard the threat hidden there so he nodded. "I understand your frustration with the article, my boy, but that is no reason-"

Harry shook his head in denial. "No, the article has nothing to do with this. I honestly couldn't care less about it. It's an attack piece that will have no impact on anything. I expected this to happen. That's why I invited more than once newspaper," Harry reminded the headmaster. "No, my anger stems from knowing nothing will change. Malfoy will go unpunished and he will attack me and my friends again. Same thing happened just last month and your potions professor punished me while Malfoy received no punishment. Snape even insulted Hermione!"

Harry smiled at his mentor figure sadly. "No, sir, my anger is righteous even if my words were out of line."

"Mr. Malfoy will receive the same punishment you receive, you have my word," Dumbledore said solemnly. "But you need to realise the implications this will have on the tournament."

Harry felt terrible, but it wasn't enough. "I'm sorry, sir, I am. I understand my words were wrong but my conscience is clear. Malfoy attacked, I responded. My response may seem over the top to you but it wasn't. I am sick and tired of the insults and attacks."

"You must learn to rise above petty insults, Harry," advised Dumbledore.

Harry shook his head at the idealistic man. "I tried that, sir. It didn't work on Dursleys and it hasn't worked on Malfoy. I'm not a saint, my patience has its limits. Hermione is my limit."

Dumbledore's eyes showed guilt and sadness but he changed the subject to the reason he was there. "What do you plan on doing about the Prophet article?"

"Nothing. We warned them. They didn't listen, so they lost the right to report the tournament. They will realise their mistake when the other newspapers come out. Public will not believe the word of Prophet over eight other newspapers. It will blow over. Responding to the article would only give credence to what they are saying."

 _I could be mistaken but is that pride on Dumbledore's face?_

"That's mature of you," Dumbledore said, his tone asking why Harry couldn't be mature twenty minutes ago.

The boy ignored the unasked question. "I am a mature guy." He smiled before he remembered Hermione. "Sir, if that's all, I'd like to visit Hermione."

As soon as Dumbledore nodded his consent, Harry shot out of the room. Hermione was on her way out when Harry barged into the infirmary. He skidded to a stop a foot from her, checking every inch of her face for disfigurements. "You look great."

"No thanks to you," Hermione responded, her tone cold as ice, hurting Harry more than any punishment McGonagall could dish out.

"I- McGonagall..."

The bushy-haired witch just huffed and walked passed Harry, leaving him confused and sad.

"Hermione," Harry called after her, catching up to her in long strides. "Hermione, will you, please, just stop?" When he grabbed her arm, she whirled around and glared at the boy.

"You had to respond to him, didn't you? You couldn't just let go?"

Harry took a deep breath, to push down the hurt and anger. "Then what? What will I do when he comes back tomorrow for more of the same? Then the day after?"

"You ignore him. You didn't need to stoop down to his level," she answered, her voice rising a little.

Harry looked at the brown-eyed witch incredulously. "What you are saying is, I should suffer the insults as long as he wants me to suffer. Really? What would that make me?"

"It makes you the bigger man!"

"No, Hermione, it makes me the victim. You don't turn the other cheek to a bully. Draco Malfoy is a budding psychopath. Turning the other cheek would make him all more violent, thinking there are no consequences." Harry shook his head. "No, I won't turn the other cheek and I won't let him insult my parents. My parents! What would that make me if I let that bastard insult the woman who died so I can live? The man who died so I can live? No, I won't dishonour my parent's memories by cowering."

"So you think I'm coward then?" she asked, entwining her arms, looking at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Harry took a hold of Hermione's arm and steered her to an empty classroom before turning to her. "No. I think someone told you the best way to deal with bullies is to ignore them. Right?" She nodded. "They were wrong. It's basic child psychology. If you don't punish certain behaviours, a child takes that as affirmation. Hell, our whole civilisation is based on that premise. Good behaviour gets rewards, bad behaviour gets punished."

"True," Hermione agreed. "But there are rules about what behaviour deserves what punishment. You don't get to ignore them when it's inconvenient."

"And where were those rules when Malfoy threatened you? Where were those rules when your teeth were hanging off your chin and Snape said you don't seem any different? When those in charge don't impose the rules, it's up to us to do it ourselves. When Dumbledore and McGonagall sat back as Malfoy insulted me, they gave me the right to insult right back." Harry smiled at the girl. "There is a quote I love; bad men need nothing more to compass their ends than that good men should look on and do nothing."

"That doesn't give you the right to beat Malfoy senseless!"

"You are right," Harry allowed. "My reaction was over the top. But when I saw you like that, I lost it. I was so mad."

Hermione huffed but there was a pleasant pink on her cheeks. "It was just a Pimple Jinx, Harry. Don't be overdramatic."

"Yes, I overreacted. Still, today it was a schoolyard jinx, tomorrow, who knows what?"

"That's just silly. He's a schoolyard bully, not a dark lord."

"I'm sure they used to say Voldemort just a bully too, but that's neither here nor there. You know what I see when I look at Draco Malfoy?" He continued when Hermione shook her head. "I see the son of a Death Eater and a boy who considered it fun to watch Muggleborns die. I see a boy who sent Buckbeak to his death with glee. What do you think Malfoy, both Malfoys, will do if- when Voldemort returns?"

Harry didn't allow Hermione to answer. "He will return, we both know that. We may have delayed his return but he will come back. And when he does, Draco Malfoy will be the first to join his cause, wanting to teach you lowly Muggleborns your place. Which, according to him, is at his feet, serving his sick fantasies. I won't let a psychopath like him think I'm easy pickings. When Voldemort comes back, Draco Malfoy will consider it twice before messing with me."

Harry gave his best friend a pleading glance. "So, please, Hermione, don't defend Draco Malfoy's rights. Call the beating I gave him a down-payment," Harry said, grinning a little.

Hermione didn't seem convinced, but she chuckled at his joke. "So, when you saw my pimples, you lost your mind, eh? Did I look that hideous?"

Harry made sure his face was solemn when he answered, "They stole attention from your... curls. Yes, your curls."

Just like that, all was right in the world for Harry.

Except, it wasn't. Because the next day, Rita Skeeter shared her thoughts on what happened. According to her, Harry had attacked viciously at the Malfoy scion with no provocation while Malfoy defended himself, hitting a co-conspirator. Which meant increased glares from the student population.

 _The morons were there. They saw Malfoy fire a curse at my back and they still believe Skeeter._

The only things stopping Harry from making what Skeeter claimed he did reality was Hermione and knowing the real articles about the tournament would come out the next day. And he knew; he knew they would all sing praises to him then.

It wouldn't do them any good. Harry was more observant than they thought and he was memorising everyone who treated him with contempt at the word of Skeeter.

 _Oh, I can be bitter._


	6. Let The Games Begin!

The lead up to the start of the tournament was a blur to Harry. There was always some place he needed to get to and some issue he had to deal with.

The most obvious one, that left Harry cursing himself in hindsight, was the team uniforms. Each team had their designs ready but none knew how to turn those designs into reality. Not even Parvati and Lavender knew more than a few colour-changing and sowing charms.

They considered every possibility, from ordering from Madam Malkin's to going Muggle but a visiting Madam Hooch came to their rescue. Turns out, Hogwarts elves made and repaired the Quidditch wear for the house teams and they were more than willing to help.

Convincing Hermione took Harry a few hours and more than a few concessions.

Next came the scheduling. At first, Harry was all for having one game a day but Hermione convinced him that having two games would increase the likelihood of families making the trip.

Then they had to decide which team would play which team when. Everyone agreed that having Harry and Viktor's match last made sense as it would be the one to garner the most interest. Starting the games with Harry's team playing Cedric's would raise little to no interest as they had played three games against each other already. That meant the starting matches would be Harry against Fleur and Cedric against Krum.

The next issue came from an unexpected place: the game balls. Harry learnt that there were big differences between professional balls and the balls Hogwarts students played with, or as they were known; training balls. Oh, there was no difference between the quaffles but the training bludgers were charmed to reduce the potential injuries and severity of the injuries that happen.

The biggest difference, however, was the snitches as Viktor showed Harry. The training snitches were as fast as the professional ones but their reaction time was shorter which meant they were easier to get close to and easier to catch. They were also less likely to change directions mid-flight.

It took Viktor less than thirty seconds to catch a school snitch in demonstration, making Harry worry.

The four champions agreed to use professional snitches and training bludgers.

It was an eye-opening experience, watching Viktor; and Harry knew if he wanted to defeat the Bulgarian, he would need to play his best game yet and find a new strategy.

It was yesterday Harry visited the new stadium for the first time. The ministry had, in a surprising show of competence, built a beautiful stadium. The stadium, small compared to the one built for the World Cup, could host up to twenty thousand viewers. It had climate control charm that would ensure the playing conditions are never below a certain level. A charm ensured great acoustics. Two large screens to show highlights; and for this tournament, advertisements. Enchanters had littered the ground with softening and slowing charm to prevent injury if a player falls off their broom.

As Harry gazed at the colourful stands from the freshly planted grass, he hoped they could fill them for the final. He had put a lot of effort and his whole identity behind the tournament and if it failed, it would be his failure.

He may not care what the public thought of him but the black mark a failed tournament could leave on his name was something even he dreaded.

Harry took a deep breath as he settled down next to Ron in the locker room after changing to his uniform. "How are you holding up?"

The redhead answered with a high-pitched squeak instead of answering, telling Harry everything he needed to know. _That seems about right._ "Ron, you are a good keeper. Don't worry so much, mate."

The redhead didn't respond. Harry did not know what more he could say to his friend to make his friend feel better, so he said nothing. He stood as the girls joined the four boys and walked to the middle of the locker. "Listen up. You all watched Viktor at the World Cup final. If we want to play against the Harpies, we have to rack up the score in the first two match. So I'm not going after the snitch until you have at least a sizable lead."

"Fred, George, I want you to focus on disrupting Fleur's team's attacks. I don't care if I am bombarded by your counterparts, your job is to protect our hoops and help our chasers put up a lead. Got it?"

Twins gave him identical grins and thumbs up, creating a frightening picture. "Don't worry, Harrikins."

"We got this."

"I'm not even going to bother with you three," Harry said, pointing a finger at the three female chasers. "You know what to do and you know each other." He turned to Ron again, racking his brain for something to say. "Ron, do your best. This is your first game, so no one knows your potential. Go out there and have fun. Pretend we are playing a pickup game at Burrow, okay?"

Ron gave an unsure nod but looked a little calmer. _I'll take what I can get._

"Now, let's get out there and show everyone why they should turn around and run when they hear a lion roar!"

The six students in navy blue uniforms yelled their approval of Harry's words and followed him out of the lockers and to the tunnels leading to the pitch. As they made to the new pitch the ministry built, they could hear Lee's voice booming. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the opening game of the first-ever Interschool Quidditch Tournament. This first match will be between Potter's Pixies..."

 _That name is growing on me._

"... and Delacour's Firebirds. Seven thousand people are here to watch the game live as many more across Europe listens via WWN. An exciting game awaits us between these two teams. And, here comes Potter's Pixies. Beaters; Fred and George Weasley. Chasers; Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katherine Bell. Keeper; Ronald Weasley." Lee's voice increased in volume as he said, "And, the seeker and the captain; Harry Potter. You can say this tournament is his brainchild as the prodigious seeker worked day and night to make it happen."

As Harry flew out of the tunnel after his teammates, he tuned out Lee's voice and focused on flying. _This is it. This is what I worked for last two weeks._

When asked, Harry would say he loved flying more than he loved Quidditch and it would be the truth. But nothing could get his blood pumping and cause his competitive side to shine like Quidditch could. He had even won a game with a broken arm once.

As he drifted in the air, he saw Fleur's team fly out in bronze uniforms that looked oddly mesmerising on Fleur's pale skin. The French witch flew to Harry and gave him a dazzling smile that made Harry gulp. _I don't think I like this little game we have anymore._

Since they smoothed things over between them, Harry and Fleur had been playing a game where each tried to get a rise out of each other. They would insult each other, flirt with each other and anything they could think of that would get the other to falter.

"Hey, now," Harry said, "A smile like that has no place in Quidditch. This is serious business, girl."

Fleur put a hand on her chest and looked at him in faux-surprise. "Oh, my. I deedn't zink my smile would cause you so muz trouble, Meester Potter."

Harry huffed in irritation because listening to her accent while watching her smile seductively as she rode a broom was causing trouble in his blood flow. "Are we going to play games or are we going to... play Quidditch?" _That sounded awful._ "You know what I mean," Harry groused when Fleur laughed at his nonsensical words.

"If you are so bothered already, I'm afraid you will 'ave an 'ard time following me during the game."

 _You win this round, Miss Delacour, but the game isn't over yet._ "At least I'll have a good view," Harry said, giving Fleur a voluptuous leer. The blonde girl gave a musical laugh as she sped forward, leaning forward to emphasise her buttocks.

The green-eyed wizard moved on his broom to ease his discomfort and changed directions to get his body under control. _Focus, Potter. You have a game to win._

Harry saw Bagman stand in the middle of the field and drifted to the centre square for the game begin, hovering over his teammates' heads. He shook Fleur's hand gently, unwilling to imitate the legendary handshakes between Wood and Flint.

Bagman released the snitch, then the bludgers and took hold of the quaffle. He closed the chest for an elf to take away, winked and threw the quaffle before jumping on his broom.

It was Katie who stole the ball right off the bat and sped forward to the hoops as Harry went higher to search for the snitch. The French keeper saved Katie's shot but Angelina caught the ball and scored at the follow-up, earning them an early lead.

Harry put his focus on searching the snitch and keeping an eye on Fleur, who turned out to play in the same position as him. The French beauty was truly a beautiful sight in the air even though she put no effort into distracting Harry like she had insinuated before the game. Not that Harry expected her to. From what he'd seen of the girl so far, Fleur was someone who wanted to earn her victories, as opposed to seducing her way to them. _I can respect that. I'll still win but I can respect her ethics._

The boy took a leaf out of Viktor's book and sped down, moving past Fleur to entice her into following him. It worked, as Fleur followed her immediately, but she was ready as Harry turned parallel to the ground at the last second. _Good. She's agile on a broom._

That thought brought an uncomfortable line of thought to Harry's mind but he put it on the back of his mind to ponder further after the game. Preferably in the shower. And then again before he went to sleep. _Focus, Potter!_

As he rose higher, he saw an opportunity to steal the quaffle as one of the opposing chasers was telegraphing it and moved to intercept. As soon as he had the ball, he passed it to a surprised Angelina. The dark-skinned girl sped towards the opposing team's hoops and dodged a bludger before twirling on her broom's axis and passing to Alicia. The blonde faked a shot, sending the keeper to far right before scoring.

Harry cast his eyes at the scoreboard to see his team twenty points ahead at forty to twenty.

As he was pondering why the score was so high for the thirteenth minute of the game, he heard a wheezing sound, warning him of an incoming bludger. He performed a sloth-roll and sped away but a waiting beater sent the ball his way once again. Harry considered his options while keeping a lead on the little bastard, not wanting to give the beaters another chance to double team him right away.

He found an opportunity in the form of an attack from the opposite team and flew towards a distracted chaser; the bastard following behind him. He dipped his broom low at the last moment, causing the boy to swerve right to the path of the bludger, his shoulder taking the brunt of the hit.

Harry winked at the blonde boy cheekily and once again, rose above the chaser's play level as his three chasers overwhelmed the two remaining opposition and stole the quaffle. He saw a glint of gold in his periphery and searched for the Fleur to make sure she didn't see it. Thankfully, she was looking the other way, so Harry ignored the snitch.

"... and she scores. A beautiful play from the trio of chasers. Pixies lead sixty to twenty."

Harry watched the chasers for a while, not forgetting to keep an eye on Fleur who was circling the pitch in search of the golden ball. His chasers were using the experience they gained from Slytherin matches, bodily disrupt opposing plays while the twins sent bludgers with unholy glee. _They scare me sometimes with their psychopathic tendencies._

As he watched, Fleur's team used a distraction caused by a well-thrown bludger to get past the defending chasers and scoring easy points as Ron fumbled on his broom. He drifted towards his friend as the game moved away from his hoops. _Encouraging him didn't work. Let's see if his temper can._ "Ron, get a grip, mate. You are embarrassing yourself; and more importantly, you are embarrassing me, Harry Potter. Don't make me regret giving you this chance!"

He fought to hide his smile as the redhead flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and anger and left the boy to defend his hoops. He did so just in time as he saw Fleur fly down as fast as she could and immediately followed the gorgeous derriere.

This was Harry's first time on the Siberian-made broom and he could tell the difference with his beloved Firebolt. While not as fast as the Firebolt, this broomstick was much more agile, especially when Harry worked with the air currents instead of against them.

This meant he was having a hard time catching up to the Cleansweep Eleven Fleur was riding. It also meant, he could follow the French girl without fearing a feint as he could easily take a tight turn.

But it wasn't a feint as he realised when he glimpsed at the golden ball as he closed the distance. He also realised Fleur had little to no chance of catching the little bugger before the snitch had to change its course. Harry tried to guess which way the snitch would go but had no way of knowing so he randomly chose and hoped for the best.

If he guessed right, he could cut Fleur off from the snitch. If he guessed wrong... He didn't want to consider the possibility.

A few seconds later, he was giddy with relief as the snitch turned, and he planted himself in front of Fleur and slowed carefully to stop the girl. Hearing rapid spoken French as he gained height and sent a wink at Fleur over his shoulder. What he guessed were expletives increased in volume as he glimpsed at the scoreboard. Ninety to thirty.

It was a respectable lead, but he wanted more. He wanted at least a hundred point lead before he finished the game. If they could stretch it over a hundred and fifty, he would but the team a bottle of firewhisky.

As he watched, an opposing faked a shot and passed the ball to a fellow chaser who shot a curve ball to the leftmost hoop. Ron, in a brilliant move, kicked away the ball, proving once and for all he worked better when angry.

Harry smiled as he drifted above the game play, watching his team decimate the French in well-coordinated moves. They were a sight to see, the so-called flying foxes. After three years, they knew each other's next move instinctively and worked like a well-oiled machine.

For the next forty-five minutes, Harry disrupted a few more attacks by Fleur's team as the snitch stayed aloof and hidden, and tried another ineffective feint as his team racked up the score to a hundred and seventy against fifty.

As the game time reached ninety minutes, he called for a time-out to allow his chasers a rest and the game to cool down.

As soon as he landed next to his teammates, he threw a punch at Ron's arm. "You are killing it out there, mate!"

Ron grinned in response and gave a nervous laugh. "Thanks. What you said up there, but it bloody worked. I picture your face on the quaffle and let the desire to kick your skinny ass control my body."

Harry grinned back at his best mate and turned to the real stars of the game so far. "You three are brilliant out there. Outright steamrolling them. I have nothing to tell you." Turning to the twins, "I want you to bombard Fleur from now on. Buy as much time as you can before I have to catch the snitch, so you can earn that firewhisky I promised."

The twins gave him nods as they drank water from the bottles Ginny brought.

As they took to the air again after ten minutes of rest, Harry searched for Hermione. He found her sitting with Viktor, Cedric and Cho, laughing at something the Bulgarian must have said. As if feeling Harry's eyes, she turned away from the Bulgarian, making eye contact with Harry. The hand she had on the short-haired boy's arm left it as if he was on fire. Harry had the urge to forget the game and just go there and sit with her. But he didn't; instead, he smiled sadly and flew up to meet Fleur, not seeing the frown on brown-eyed girl's face when she turned his attention to the blue-eyed one. "Having fun?"

The blonde smiled at Harry. "Yes, 'arry, I am. Your chasers are vairy good."

"That, they are. Imagine how good I have to be that people consider me the star of the team," he said, showing no sign of modesty.

"My, the leettle boy has a beeg ego," she mocked, her smile softening the blow.

"That's not the only big thing about me," Harry answered. Fleur's smile faltered and an uncomfortable silence settled between them before Harry realised what he said. "That's not what I meant," he said hastily. "I meant the point difference, not my... you know."

The French laughed at Harry's discomfort, thankfully believing him. "Don't worry," she cooed, "Eet's not the size that muzzers."

"That's not," Harry started but before he could finish, Fleur flew off, leaving him frustrated. "You win this round, Frenchie, but the game isn't over yet." _Wait, haven't I said that before? Oh, hell. I'm losing big time._

As the game restarted, Harry watched from his high-broom as his chasers took control of the game while his beaters bombarded the girl who was winning their little game. _At least I'm winning in Quidditch._

He caught a golden flurry in his periphery and turned to see the snitch at the opposite end of the pitch. He considered going after the ball and finishing the game but his chasers were well-rested and doing an incredible job even without the defensive help from his beaters. _The twins are distracting Fleur, anyway. No need to hurry._

His chasers may not need help but as he saw a slow pass, he sped off to intercept anyway, passing the ball to Alicia.

He saw the snitch again twenty-five minutes ago, the score at a respectable two hundred and forty to seventy, and this time, he sped after it. Fleur must have seen it at the same time because she was to his right in the chase not a moment later. As the two seekers raced after the ball, both found it necessary to push and pull each other, though never with too much force. To Harry's luck, the snitched took a sharp left and Harry gained ground thanks to his broom and by placing himself on Fleur's path forcing her to swerve and lose control.

He used his advantage well, rushing after the zippy ball which changed directions once again, flying towards the ground. _Oh, bloody hell._ Harry followed at the tail of the ball, closing the distance every second. He realised he couldn't catch it before the ball had to change directions again and took a glance at his environment. Fleur was on his tail, a little to his left. _Which means the snitch will favour my right this time._

At least, he hoped so and got ready to swing right. As soon as the ball was within five feet to the ground, he banked right, cutting off the ball and palming it. What he didn't account for was the ground, he realised, as it rushed up at him.

 _Or did I rush down at it?_ he wondered as he lay on the ground after losing control of his broom and falling off. _A win is a win is a win._ He pumped his hand enclosed around the snitch in the air and gave a celebratory yell, his vision blurring.

His teammates jumped off their broom around him, each celebrating in their own fashion. Though they stayed a few feet away from the injured boy to not get an earful from the resident healer. Harry didn't bother standing up, knowing Madam Pomfrey would put him on his arse as soon as she reached him.

"Are zey not worried about 'arry?" he heard the French champion ask an unseen person.

"They got used to it," he heard the unseen Hermione answer, his heart fluttering at the sound for reasons he was far too concussed to understand.

"Hermiyniyni, I wiyn," he said. "Hermiyyn- Her-" _I seem to have lost my ability to do mouth words. And think words._

"Stop trying to move, you buffoon," Hermione told Harry, who wasn't aware he was moving. "Madam Pomfrey is almost here," she informed him as she kneeled down next to him, taking his hand in hers. "She'll make you right in a jiffy."

Harry raised his hand to touch Hermione's cheek. "You are prettyyy, Hermiyniyni." He saw Hermione blush and smiled. His concussion wasn't enough for him to forget that's a good thing.

Before Hermione or Harry could say anything more, Madam Pomfrey arrived at the scene, gently sending Hermione a few feet away. "Agh! Uglyyy. Bring back the prettyyy again."

"Yep," the ugly said, "He has a concussion. Again. I swear, the boy gets so many concussions, it's a wonder he hasn't forgotten how to breathe yet."

Harry felt a spell hit his head and felt the skin on it tighten almost painfully. Another spell hit his left shoulder, tensing the muscles. Then a terrible yet familiar tasting liquid filled his mouth, followed by a hand covering his nose so he'd have to swallow. As soon as he swallowed, his vision returned to normal and a fog he wasn't aware was there left his mind.

"Hey, Poppy. What's the verdict?"

"You'll be right as rain in a few hours, assuming you don't hurt your head again," the aged matron of the hospital wing answered briskly.

"That's good. Don't worry about me. It's not like anything bad will happen in the next few hours," Harry joked, not understanding what had the woman upset.

"I don't know. God forbid, you might think or something," the woman shot back, giving Harry a wicked smile, and left.

Harry slowly stood, stretching his shoulder muscles to ease the stiffness. "What's her problem?" he asked an approaching Hermione.

Hermione checked him out to make sure he was okay. "You may have offended her when you called her ugly," she answered with a barely hidden amusement in her voice.

"I did?" Upon Hermione's nod and grin, he asked, "What else did I say? Do I need to do a round of apologies?"

Hermione looked shifty as she answered, "No. No need to apologise to anyone but Poppy."

Harry narrowed his eyes at that. "What else did I say?"

"Well, you called me Hermiyniyni," the pretty girl answered. When Harry raised an eyebrow that said go on, she added, "You also called me pretty."

"Aha! You are blushing. It's pretty," Harry complimented with a smile. As he lifted his left arm to stretch further, he realised he still had the snitch in his palm. "Look, the snitch. What a surprise," he said, looking Fleur right in the eye. "I wonder what that means."

The blonde rolled her eyes at Harry's inadequate ribbing. "Believe me, I feel so bad."

"Oh, come on! It's no fun if you don't get offended," Harry complained childishly.

She smiled at him, her face showing her pleasure at robbing him of pleasure and shrugged.

"Fine, be a good loser. See if I care."

Fleur just continued to smile sweet and innocent like as she stepped next to him. "It was a good game. Your team played great and deserved to win. Congratulations."

Harry smiled back this time. "Thanks. You were great too. Better than I thought you would do."

Fleur arched an eyebrow. "And why did you think I would play bad?"

"Oh, I didn't. I just didn't expect you to play well enough to give me a hard time. You are the best seeker I have played against," Harry confessed. "It was fun."

Fleur nodded and left for the locker rooms, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the pitch. "How was the atmosphere on the stands?" the raven-haired boy asked as they walked towards the locker room leisurely.

"It was good. From what I saw, everyone had fun." Hermione seemed like she wanted to say something more but decided otherwise as she turned ahead and increased her pace.

"What is it?" Harry asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "What is it you want to say or ask but are afraid?"

Hermione stop but didn't turn around. "It's nothing," she lied, shrugging off the hand.

"Hermione, you know you can say and ask me anything. We've been best friends for four years. We are far passed the stage where we hesitate talking," Harry tried again to get her talking.

Hermione whirled around and looked Harry right in the eye. "He asked me to Yule Ball."

The green-eyed wizard felt his insides turn to ice. "I - ah - What did you say?"

"I told him I'll consider it."

 _Ain't that something. She'll consider it._ "Well - I." Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried talking again, "Okay, then." He walked past the witch in long and quick strides, feeling a shower would clear his head.

The witch didn't follow.

As soon as he walked into the locker rooms, his ears were assaulted by the loud celebration going on inside. Apparently, more than a few Gryffindors thought it prudent to congratulate their housemates as soon as possible. He nodded to a few people and accepted their words quickly before pushing past his way to a shower stall and letting hot water clean him and relax his muscles.

He used the new showers to the fullest, spending half an hour under water, both enjoying the effect it had on his muscles and needing time to clear his thoughts. After drying himself and changing to a fresh set of clothes, he made his way to the castle to grab a late lunch. _Great Hall or the kitchens? Eh, I miss Dobby._

A flight of stairs later, he tickled a pear and entered the den of little people, causing said people to stop moving immediately. "Master Harry Potter sir has come to visit Dobby!" he heard before forty pounds of weight hit his legs and hug it like there is no tomorrow.

"Hi, Dobby. How are you doing since I last saw you?"

"I's doing well, Master Harry. I's cleaning the Gryffindor tower and looking after Winky," the hyperactive elf answered, the part about Winky in a whisper as if it's a taboo subject.

"How is Winky doing?"

"Still same, Master Harry, sir. She be's drinking all day," Dobby said, shaking his head sadly.

 _Ah, man! I will do something stupid again._ "Do you think she'll be okay without a family?"

Dobby shook his head in answer, his eyes watering. "I's thinking Winky can't handle not being in a family. She's not taking care of herself."

Harry sighed, accepting the inevitable. "Do you think I should... I don't know, hire her?"

Dobby's eyes widened in surprise and hope. "You's do that?" The little guy hugged the wizard's legs once again as soon as he nodded. "You's a great wizard, Great Master Harry Potter Sir!" he pronounced.

What followed was the weirdest twenty minutes of Harry's life, involving a skinny house-elf rubbing herself all over him and touching him with her magic. _Agh, that sounded, and felt, all kinds of wrong._ After the wizard and the alcoholic elf completed the odd ritual of bonding, Harry was practically force fed enough to feed the Dursleys.

Harry left the kitchens feeling like a Christmas turkey, stuffed to the brim. He took half an hour to wobble to the stadium, having to stop every few minutes to rest and get his breathing under control. _I hope that psychopathic mini-Molly settles down once she's off the booze._

It was when he reached the stadium, his discomfort turned into a real problem. _I could wait for somebody to come and take me to the hospital wing for a medical help. Or climb the endless stairs and risk a heart attack or worse. Decisions. Decisions._

Ron's arrival saved him. He climbed the stairs slowly but surely with the help of his best mate, taking another twenty minutes. _I should introduce Ron to Winky. It would solve my problem._

When he reached the top, he faced another unexpected problem; where to sit. Normally, he would sit next to Hermione who saved Ron and him seats. Contrary to normal, he didn't want to see Hermione, let alone sit next to her for however long the game would last.

 _Still, can't ignore one's best friend._

He did make sure to put Ron between them which earned him raised eyebrows from both of his friends but neither said anything. They filled the twenty-odd minutes until in uncomfortable silence, only broken by a few awkward jokes by Ron.

When the match began, Harry sighed in relief and concentrated on the game, watching the chasers for the first time. He didn't need to learn about either seekers; he had all he needed to know. The chasers, that's how he planned on winning the tournament.

The game was a physical one, reminiscing of Gryffindor versus Slytherin games, only with less foul play from either side. Neither team could dominate the other but Cedric's team was slightly better. _Good, maybe we can rack up points against Cedric too._

After the first ten minutes, Harry gave up on watching the chasers and focused his attention on the seekers. Cedric was doing his thing, circling the pitch, looking for the snitch. He hoped to go after it while Viktor was distracted. Viktor was drawing lazy circles in the centre, doing the same, flying off in random intervals to check if Cedric would follow.

Watching Viktor brought disturbing thoughts back to Harry's mind, and he glanced at his would-be Yule Ball date. She was watching the Bulgarian with a focus she usually reserved for classwork. The ugliness that had settled on his stomach from time to time since the day they agreed to host the tournament, came back.

He liked Hermione, of that he had no doubt. But these jealous fits were so unlike him, he did not understand how to deal with them. He didn't know how he could want to kiss Hermione and yell at her at the same time. _I never thought Hermione would jump at the chance to go to the ball with Viktor._

It hurt. It hurt for Hermione to throw him aside just like that. He didn't understand why she would. Oh, he understood why she would choose the Bulgarian over him but he would have expected Hermione to honour their agreement at the least.

An excited yell from the surrounding crowd drew him out of his introspection and turned his attention on the seekers, both of whom were chasing after a golden blur. The result of the chase surprised no one as Viktor caught the snitch with little challenge from the blonde seeker.

"Krum's Conquerors win two hundred to eighty against Diggory's Pufferclaws. An odd name that..."

Harry didn't hear the rest of what Lee said as the crowd's celebration gained volume. When Harry saw Hermione jumping up and down in joy, he left, unable to handle it anymore.

As he strode to the castle, he wondered who he could ask to the ball. _Cedric must have already asked Cho. Parvati? Nah. Lavender? Hell, no. Ginny? Pfft._

He shook his head in dismay, not liking his options. Oh, he had nothing against the girls, but he knew he wouldn't enjoy the ball with them. Ginny would be tongue-tied and nervous. Parvati would want to dance all night long. He didn't like Lavender much.

 _Well, we'll see who's on the market. Let the games begin!_


	7. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

"What's going on between you and Hermione?"

"Nothing is going on, Ron. Why do you ask?" Harry lied.

"Since your match, you barely look at each other, let alone talk. In the rare instances you do talk, it's all about the tournament. What happened?" the redhead tried again, unwilling to let go.

Harry sighed in defeat and sat back on the armchair in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor common room. "It's nothing, mate. She told me she'd go to the ball with Viktor. I'm okay with it, really."

 _At least, I will be as soon as I figure out who to take to the thing myself._

The redhead scratched his head in confusion. "You two were going together? I was even working on this rant about how she chose you over me."

The raven-haired boy shot his friend a weird look before answering, "I thought so too." He shrugged and two boys settled in a momentary silence. "What do you mean you were working on a rant?"

The youngest Weasley boy smiled self-depreciatingly. "What? Did you expect my envious rants were spontaneous?" he joked before turning serious. "It was odd, to be honest. One moment, I'm mad she's going with you. The next, I make the team and 'puff'," he explained, using hand motions to emphasise the word 'puff'. "There goes the anger and I feel great."

Harry chuckled at his friend. "Nothing like Quidditch to put things into perspective, eh?" He paused a moment before continuing, "You have serious issues, mate."

"I realise," Ron agreed with a nod. "Then again, so do you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, while I was working on my rant, I watched you and Hermione." The freckled boy shook his head for reasons unknown. "You two are something else, mate. It's like your world revolves around her, and hers around you. Whenever she enters a room, you notice immediately, like you sense her coming. No matter what happens, Hermione always knows what you will need next and have it ready. It's freaky."

"That's great, mate, but what does it have to do with anything?" Harry asked, exasperated and embarrassed.

"What I'm trying to say is, you are in love with her." When he saw Harry's sceptical expression, he amended, "Okay, love might be too strong a word. You are in like with her," he said or asked, unsurely. "Whatever the right word is, you have feelings for her. So, why are you letting Krum take her from you?"

Harry ruffled the hairs back of his head in frustration. "And what was I supposed to? Tell her she can't go with Viktor?" He leaned back in his seat. "Apparently, she considers him the better choice. Who am I to interfere with her choices?"

The redhead shrugged, "I don't know, mate. But I don't like seeing you two at odds."

"Don't worry. We'll get past it," Harry said with a smile. "Now, I need to find a date for the ball. While we are at it, so do you."

Ron groaned and hid his head under a pillow. "Don't remind me," he said, his voice muffled. He straightened again, looking like he was preparing for war, and rolled up his sleeves. "Okay, let's review the candidates, shall we?"

Harry grinned and copied the action. "Well, Cho is out. She and Cedric spend far too much time together to not be dating."

Ron nodded and added, "So is Delacour. She's way out of our league."

"I wouldn't be so sure. I've seen her check you out more than a few times," Harry said with a straight face.

The redhead perked up, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Really?"

The raven-head snorted in disbelief. "No, not really. Come on, mate, get it together, will you?"

"Arse."

"I don't think I'd have fun with any of the Gryffindor girls our year or the year below, so they are out for me." He pondered for a moment. "Though I can picture you and Lavender or Parvati together."

"And why is that?" Ron asked defensively.

"No clue. It's not like I have a ton of experience in this kind of stuff, do I?" Harry answered with a shrug.

"Who else is there?"

Harry eyed the motifs on the ceiling as he thought. "Well, there are Bones and Abbott but they wore those ridiculous badges. There is Katie's Hufflepuff buddy, but I don't know her, like at all. There are Jones, Roper and Vane in Hufflepuff again. Greengrass, Davis, Parkinson, Smith and Moon is out. I don't need the drama. Parvati's twin, Parkins, Li, Turpin, Tolipan and Brocklehurst in Ravenclaw. Then there are McDougal and Dunbar from us."

Ron was cross-eyed as he listened to Harry count the girls sorted with them. "Shit. What are we going to do?"

"Boycott the ball?" Harry asked, his tone not hopeful.

"You have to attend. Not only you are a champion, but you talk a big game about organising a dinner with the champions or some such," Ron dashed his hopes.

"I'll figure something out," the raven-haired boy sighed. "You should ask Parvati. She's cute, fun and you know at least few things about her."

The redhead nodded. "I might."

 _I can't believe I have to find a date. A week ago, I announced I had no time to date. Fuck._

Harry continued to ponder his choices and why he shouldn't choose them. _Maybe I should suck it up and ask Fleur for a favour? Nah. Skeeter would have a field day and I need no more headaches._

"Harry! There you are," Hermione huffed, pulling the said boy out of his musings. "I've been looking all over for you."

Harry looked at the girl like she's gone crazy and took a cursory look around the common room. "Are you sure you looked all over? 'Cause I'm sure we've been here for the last hour. Like we told you, we'd be after lunch."

"I also remember reminding you to get ready for your visit to St. Mungo's to meet with Healer Abbott."

"Oh, shit!"

Harry was off his seat like a bullet, dashing upstairs to his dorm to change into presentable clothes. He returned not five minutes later, his clothes ruffled, his hair messy beyond normal, out of breath and sweating.

His bushy-haired friend huffed and did her best to make his hair and clothes look less like Harry just survived an attack. While Hermione was busy micro-managing his appearance, Harry focused hard on ignoring how close she was and how nice it was to have her hands all over him.

"That's... not as bad," Hermione commented and pushed Harry towards the portrait of the Lady in Pink. "Go. Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you at the entrance hall."

Harry gave her a shaky nod and hurried out of the tower, down the labyrinth.

"There you are, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry - for - keeping you waiting, Poppy," Harry said in between deep breaths. "I lost track of time."

One of the two women alive to see Harry naked smiled thinly and led Harry out of the castle. "We will apparate from the gates directly to an admittance room in St. Mungo's. Apparition and disapparition are strictly forbidden except in cases of emergency but I cleared it with Abbott."

 _Magical travel methods,_ Harry decided, _hate me, want to make me suffer,_ as he stood on shaky legs, gulping down breaths like there is no tomorrow. The snickers coming from Poppy and a blonde woman he hadn't met added insult to the injury, literally.

Once Harry gained control of his bodily functions, Poppy introduced the woman to Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is Chief Healer of St. Mungo's, Daniella Abbott. Healer Abbott, Harry Potter."

Daniella Abbott was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, light green eyes hidden behind square glasses and long legs that put her a few inches above Harry's height. _She is intimidating._

"Nice to meet you, Madam," Harry said with a small bow and his hand held out.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Potter," the healer replied, shaking Harry's hand. "If you'll follow me to my office."

As they travelled through the hospital, Harry looked around in interest at the weirdness surrounding him. There was a guy with a wolf's head, a woman with a hand sticking out of her neck, a young man whose skin covered in polka dots.

 _Man, Dursleys had a point. This is freaky._

"First, I must say, I admire what you are doing, Mr. Potter," Healer Abbott started as soon as they were all seated in her sparsely decorated office. "My hospital is underfunded and understaffed. We encourage all donations, no matter the size."

"Thank you, Madam, but I can't take the sole credit. Many people put a lot of effort into this tournament and many other people contributed with donations. This is a community effort, not an individual one," Harry answered modestly. "Now, why don't you tell me in what areas you need funding the most so I have an idea what we can do."

The experienced healer smiled sadly at Harry. "We need funding, period, Mr. Potter. There isn't a single area or few areas that need funding. Every inch of this place needs more money and need it badly. The ministry cuts our budget further every year." She shook her head in dismay. "But, what we need the most is new equipment for the spell damage ward and funding for research. Since the ministry cut the funding for it, we are beholden to Department of Mysteries to do our research."

Harry cocked his head to a side in confusion. "Why is that a problem?"

The blonde woman leaned forward and folded her hands. "They don't like to share the results of their research. It's a nightmare, getting them to share tidbits of information."

"Hm. And how much, would you say, you need to for upgraded equipment and research?"

She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly before answering, her tone suggesting she didn't expect Harry's help to solve any of her problems. "We need at least fifty thousand galleons to reopen the research department. We will need to hire new personnel, buy equipment, build a customizable ritual circle. To upgrade the equipment for the spell damage ward, we'll need another ten to twenty thousand."

Harry listened to the woman as he pondered, considering how much damage the incompetence of the ministry could do. _It's what people get for voting for a corrupt government._ "What about the children's ward?"

The woman smiled sadly, probably remembering Harry's orphan status. "Our paediatric ward is well-funded at the moment," she replied. "Thanks to Mr. Malfoy's generous donations," she added sarcastically.

Harry grinned at the woman's clear dislike of Malfoy. "I can help you, Madam. To our estimates, the tournament will raise nearly a hundred thousand galleons, maybe more. Like I said to the press, some money will go to the schools. I also would like to create a werewolf relief fund. After that, you will get the most of the money. But, I want assurances."

Healer Abbott's eyes narrowed. "What kind of assurances?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you. For one, I don't want the ministry influence on where this money goes. I want to know what is your priority research. I want the equipment you won't use anymore to go to either Hogwarts or other public clinics that serve those who can't afford your hospital."

The healer smiled. "Mr. Potter, I like you."

Their discussion continued for another half an hour, coming up with research subjects and how they could get the most use out of the money.

Before Harry and Madam Pomfrey left, Healer Abbott insisted they visit the children's ward. A nine-years-old orphan girl, specifically. Young Wendy Downes was a dark-haired girl with greyish skin, suffering from a condition few children survived as long as she had.

From what Harry could understand from Abbott's highly technical talk, the girl's mother was a victim of Death Eaters during Voldemort's reign of terror. The bastards tortured her using the vilest magic they could. As a result, the lingering effects of the torture and dark magic stunted the girl's development in her mother's womb. Her magic was sporadic and her control over it was shaky at best of times.

Her mother had died during the childbirth and her father was working as a middleman for a small export company, spending every knut he earned on her treatment.

"Wendy, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," Healer Abbott said as she bent over the girl's bed, her voice gentle. "This is Harry Potter."

Harry approached the sick girl shyly, feeling uncomfortable with the shine on her green eyes. "Hello, Wendy. How are you doing?"

"I'm good," the girl answered, her voice spacey. "You are famous."

"That, I am," Harry said, kneeling next to her bed.

"My daddy says you defeated the bad man."

Harry smiled kindly at the girl. "My mother defeated him. Like your mother, my mother was a brave woman too. She died to defeat the evil man, to save my life. She's my hero."

"But why would daddy say you defeated him? Daddy wouldn't lie."

"He didn't lie, sweetheart. Everyone thought I did it."

"Oh."

"I need to talk to Healer Abbott now but I will be right back with you, okay?"

"Okay," was the whispered answer from the girl.

Harry rubbed his eyes on his sleeve as he walked to where Abbott was talking to a young healer. "Why is she..."

"The potions she's on makes it difficult for her to focus," the healer answered, smiling sadly.

Harry knew, the moment she saw this tortured soul smile, he wouldn't be able to stay away, he couldn't not help. After a hushed conversation with Healer Abbott, that involved admonishing her for her blatant manipulation, Harry parted with the rest of his basilisk money for her treatment.

"Wendy, I would like your help with something," Harry said to the girl as he returned to her side.

"Okay."

"There will be a Yule Ball in Hogwarts in Christmas. There will be wonderful food, music and dancing. I want to go but no one would go with me," Harry explained. "It would be my honour if you'd be my date and dancing partner."

The girl smiled brightly for a moment before her smile vanished. "But daddy says I can't go to Hogwarts."

Harry's lips curved upward into a mischievous smile. "Oh, I think we can convince him to make an exception. What do you say?"

"Okay. But I don't know have a dress or dancing shoes."

"Don't you worry about those, sweetheart. I can take care of those for the honour of your escort."

Harry knew he would remember the sick girl's bright smile and happy tears to his dying day.

"You are a good boy, Harry," Poppy said right before they disapparated out of the admittance room.

After dry heaving on the wet ground for a minute, Harry answered, "So you punish me, is that it?"

"Oh, that was for calling me ugly," the matron answered, grinning like a loon.

"I was high as a kite, woman. You shouldn't take anything I say when I'm on potions seriously," Harry said and started on the path to the castle.

"That sounds like a convenient excuse."

"No offence, but you are thrice my age, Poppy."

"You young people don't appreciate the value of experience," the healer said before they both laughed at the ridiculousness of their conversation. "Jokes aside, what you did for that girl was wonderful. She won't get many chances to act like a child before she..." she trailed off.

"She'll have all the chances she needs if I have anything to say about it," Harry disagreed. "There is a saying I like; where there is a will, there is a way. I'll see to it she lives a full life even if it costs me my vaults."

"Well, I've seen you do incredible things before," she said, as supportive as she can under the circumstances. "Though you usually end up under my care after those incredible things."

Harry grinned unrepentantly. "There's no place I'd rather be." He sped up as they reached the castle doors. "Thank you for taking the time to take me, Madam Pomfrey."

"You are welcome, Harry," Pomfrey answered, though Harry missed the small smile on her lips.

Harry threw himself on the seat next to Ron who was playing chess with poor Neville and closed his eyes to rest after an emotionally tiring day.

"So, how was your trip?" Ron asked, his eyes not leaving the board.

"Good. Healer Abbott is a cool lady," Harry answered, his eyes closed, reliving the day and memorising the joy on Wendy's face.

"Cool."

He felt a familiar weight settle in next to him and knew who it was with no need to open his eyes. "I met the most delightful girl," he said in a distracted tone, not sure why he felt the need to share.

He could feel Hermione's eyes on him and the snap of Ron's neck as he whirled to look at him. "Oh, who is this delightful girl?"

"Wendy. Met her in the hospital."

"That's an odd place to meet a girl. Was she visiting someone?" the girl next to him asked in an odd tone.

"No. Healer Abbott wanted to introduce me to her. Felt like someone I should meet, she said."

"Did she now? And are you going to see this Wendy again?"

"Yeah. She agreed to be my date for the ball. Thought it was a better idea than going with someone I didn't know, seeing as I didn't have a date anymore."

"Good for you," commented Hermione, her voice a little choked up.

"Yeah. Cost me the rest of my basilisk money."

"What? What do you mean it cost you money?"

"Well, the boss lady was reluctant to allow her to come but when I offered incentives, she came around pretty quickly." He had to open his eyes when the brown-haired girl slapped his shoulder and left in a huff. "What's her problem?"

Ron snorted but Neville answered. "Well, it sounded like you hired a... you know," the shy boy said. Seeing neither of them 'knew' he whispered, "A prostitute."

"Why would you think..." Harry started in a loud voice but then trailed off. "Oh. Well, no, she's not a prostitute. She's sick. I agreed to foot the bill for a more comprehensive treatment and research for her. Abbott agreed that letting her have fun this once wouldn't do any harm as long as Poppy would keep an eye on her."

Ron snickered while Neville looked surprised. "Mate, you have to tell Hermione before she blows a gasket."

The green-eyed wizard shrugged. "I don't know why I should. She should know better than to think I would hire an escort." He grinned. "Besides, imagine her face when she sees the 'prostitute' is a nine-year-old girl."

"Oh, boy, do I want to see that!"

 _I should sell tickets. Gather round! Gather round! For ten sickles, I will shock Miss Hermione 'know-it-all' Granger!_

"Harry, I think you should have started with that," Neville said, shaking his head and smiling.

"Oh, that reminds me; Healer Abbott said she wants to use the money to open a research department. At first, they will start with three separate research programmes. One is to find a cure for children who had been exposed to dark magic in their mother's womb. Children like Wendy. Abbott says they rarely live past their second birthday, their body can't handle it. The second is to research the ways of cleansing and healing bone marrows. The third is for trauma patients, those with mental troubles. Like your parents, Neville. She says they don't expect to find a cure in the short-term but she's hopeful for a solution in the long run."

Neville's eyes were wide as saucers when Harry finished, though he didn't speak. He sat there and processed in silence.

Ron, on the other hand, was looking Harry oddly. "How did Neville saying you should have started by telling the delightful girl is a sick nine-year-old remind you THAT? I don't see the connection."

Harry's shrug was uncaring.

"Merlin, what goes on in that brain of yours?"

"What can I say?" Harry said with a cocky grin. "Harry Potter's mind works in mysterious ways."

Ron shook his head and turned his attention back to the chessboard even though his opponent was catatonic. He called a move and yelled, "Checkmate!"

His opponent didn't answer.

Ron glared at Harry. "You couldn't have waited five more minutes to tell him, could you? It's no fun to beat someone if they don't feel bad about losing."

"Sorry, mate."

Ron just grumbled and flipped his king at Harry as if it was a finger, the king waving his fist at Harry in anger. "Tell him, Jeff."

"Jeff?"

Ron nodded, grinning. "Yeah, King Joffrey. I named all my pieces. The castles are Jon and Ariel. The horses are-"

"Yeah, I don't really care. Though I'm having a hard time believing I'm friends with such a moron."

"Fuck you, Potter."

"Merlin, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm not into boys but if I were, I'd do much better than your sorry arse."

"As if I would give you the time of day," Ron said, lifting his nose as if he smelled something rotting.

"Why, what's wrong with me?"

"Well, for one, you are a runt. And I'd want my men meaty, not skin and bones like you."

"Oh, tell us what else you like in a man, Ron," Seamus yelled from a few seats away.

Ron reddened as Dean pretended to puke. "Merlin, I don't feel safe in my dorm room anymore."

Harry shook his head sadly. "You think you know someone..."

"Hey! I'm not gay! I was just saying..."

"Saying what, Ron?" asked Parvati, her face showing faux-anger. "I thought you asked me to the ball because you liked me. Never would've said yes if I had known you asked me because no boy would go with you."

"I'm not... I don't... Tell them, Harry."

"Hey, now!" Harry told them. "Just because Ron is batting for the other team, it gives you no right to gang up on him like this. We should support his decision, not belittle him for it."

As Ron blushed further and further, the rest of the common room couldn't hold in their laughter anymore.

"Oh, man. That was awesome," Harry croaked, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "I needed the laugh."

Ron, calmer now that he recognised they weren't serious, groused, "You guys are the worst."

"You should have seen your face. I've seen no one go that shade of red before."

"What's going on?" asked Hermione, sitting next to Harry once again.

"Oh, Ron was just telling us what he looks for in a boy," Harry answered before Ron could open his mouth.

"I wasn't..." he started but trailed off as everyone turned to him. "Okay, I was but you are taking it out of context."

Harry snickered as Dean joined in again, "Do you even know what context means?"

"Of course- I- Harry is taking a prostitute to the ball!" he yelled when he couldn't find a suitable answer.

The silence of the common room this time was in shock, everyone looking from Ron to Harry to Hermione to Ron again.

Harry cocked an eyebrow in askew; Ron shrugged. "I'm not taking a prostitute to the ball."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Because to do that, he'd have to pay her or her 'manager' for the date. Oh, wait."

"Just what kind of prostitute would charge almost eight thousand galleons?" Harry asked hypothetically.

"You are paying eight thousand for a date?" Lavender asked, not understanding the underlying message. "Damn, Potter, I'd go with you for a hundred."

Harry grimaced. "Sorry, Brown, I don't pay for women."

"But what about this 'Wendy'?" Hermione asked with air quotes.

Harry glared at the brown-eyed, brown-haired girl. "For a fun date with her, I'd give every knut I have," he answered, his voice a breeze from the arctics. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want a nice long shower."

Hermione said nothing as Harry stood and climbed the stairs.

 _Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood again._


	8. No Competition

'... and according to a private source, after his girlfriend left him for a more experienced champion, Mr. Potter found bliss in a prostitute's arms.'

Harry threw away the paper in disgust once again, having a hard time comprehending the new low Daily Prophet sank to. "I don't know whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of this bloody woman or what," he said to the air, taking a bite of bacon.

"Though shit, mate. What are you going to do?" Neville asked as Ron nodded his approval of the question.

Harry threw his arms in the air. "Nothing. It's another meaningless piece of garbage in a rag." He pointed around him, to the people reading the article. "If they believe this shit, it's on them, not me. Every other week, Prophet tells lies, and they believe it and talk shit. The truth comes out and they are quiet as a mouse. At one point, you wonder how they can look at themselves in the mirror."

"Besides," Ron said after he finished the food on his mouth, surprising Harry. "Can you imagine the looks on their faces when they see the truth?"

"What truth?" Hermione asked as she sat next to Harry, grabbing the bunched up newspaper.

Harry, Ron and Neville all froze, wondering how they could keep Harry's little secret while explaining the situation to Hermione. They stayed frozen as Hermione read the entire article.

"I can't believe this! She made me sound like a... like a scarlet woman, as Mrs. Weasley would say."

"Really? That's the part you are having a trouble with?" Ron asked, perking up in surprise.

"Well, she writes about Harry all the time. It's a good thing, actually," Hermione answered, biting into a piece of carrot.

"How do you figure that?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione with his whole body.

"She wrote so much lies about you that after a point, people won't take what she says about you seriously," she explained, her hands waving around. "Think about it. There will come a point where even if she tells the truth about something wrong you do, people will take it with a grain of salt."

"Hah," was all Harry could say to that.

"Take a look around you, Harry," Hermione instructed. "No one's talking about you." An awkward silence followed when they heard the comments about Hermione. "They are calling me a bitch, but then again, I am new in the press."

 _What do I do now? Console her? Isn't there a grain of truth in the article?_

 _It's Hermione,_ Harry's conscience argued, _she stood by you through thick and thin._ "We will just have to ignore the amphibians, won't we?" he joked, bumping his shoulder to Hermione's. He was rewarded with a thin but genuine smile. "Besides, it's Quidditch day. Ron and I will play extra well to make them forget about this nonsense," he promised with a wink.

"That's right." Ron slammed his hands on the table. "We will give them a match they won't forget!"

Hermione guffawed at Ron's extreme enthusiasm while Harry shook his head and said, "Save the energy for the game, Ron. You will have a bigger challenge this match. Puffs and Claws know how we play, they will be ready for us."

Ron shook his head. "Their team is mostly Puffs."

"I think that the goblet selected Cedric, a Puff, as the Hogwarts champion proves they are as capable," Hermione argued, Ron's preconceptions putting her mind off of the article.

"Hey now," Harry warned, "Don't go making my keeper nervous."

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"It's so not cool to discourage a player before an important Quidditch game, Hermione, you heartless woman."

"Boys!"

"That, we are, Hermione. No need to remind us our gender and age status," Harry quipped.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast," Hermione laughed.

"Hermione!" Harry put a hand on his chest. "You are a lady. Act like one."

"He's right, you know. We are young, impressionable young men. You are a bad influence on us," Ron agreed with a wide smile.

Hermione just groaned with her head between her hands, hiding her smile. "Eat your breakfast. The first match is in an hour and," she pointed at Harry, "You and I need to be in our seats before that. You can't miss your own tournament."

"Yes, boss. Understood, boss."

The brown-eyed girl grinned. "It's good you know your place."

"And here I was thinking how lucky I was to have such a capable assistant as your fine self," Harry shot back, grinning at how good it felt to fall back to the usual banter between him and Hermione. _Usual since this whole tournament thing started._

"You did not just call me your assistant," Hermione hissed with a faux-outrage on her face.

"Damn right I did. I'd call you my secretary, but that title didn't feel right."

Hermione folded her arms, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "And why did it not feel right, Mr. Potter? And why not a partner?"

"You are pretty enough to be a secretary but you do far too much work for it. And partner? Please. You guys are more like my entourage than anything," he joked.

A silence met his joke and Harry couldn't miss the confusion on Hermione's face. _What?_ Then he remembered his comment on Hermione's beauty hit and he felt his cheek burn. He stood suddenly. "Anyway, we should get to the stadium."

Half an hour later, Ron and Harry were walking to the stadium with their bags on their shoulders.

"You and Hermione seem to get along better."

"Well, you know how it is with the three of us. We can hurt each other, insult each other but no one else can. Three of us against the world, right?"

Ron shook his head but agreed. "It sounds unhealthy when you put it like that but that's true, I guess."

"Of course, it's true, man. Don't think I didn't hear you defend me during our brief divorce." Harry patted his blushing friend on his shoulder.

Ron nodded. "It's what family does. They hurt each other but they defend each other. And that's what we are, aren't we?"

"Damn right. Wouldn't change it for the world." Harry smiled. "Though it raises the question whether if Hermione and I gotten together, it would be incest or not?"

Ron snorted. "I think not even we," he pointed at his redhead, "are that 'pure'blood."

Harry shook his head. "You are still far too pure for my taste. I mean think about it, the gene pool in magical society is so small, no matter how you look at it, it is disturbing."

"Yeah, but we have magic," Ron said like it explained everything. Seeing Harry's sceptical look he explained further, "According to this book I read, our magic ensures as long as you aren't too closely related, the risks are minimal."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if it's okay for a Muggle to marry his blood relation from ten generations earlier, for a witch or wizard, it's five generations." The redhead shrugged. "I'm making up the numbers but the point is, magic smooths things over otherwise, we wouldn't have a community at all."

Harry shook his head from side to side. "We should have waited for Hermione to discuss wizarding genetics."

The taller boy snorted. "We are in over our heads."

"Agreed. Let's leave the science of magic to Hermione." As they continued in silence, Harry couldn't help but ask, "You read a book about wizarding genealogy?"

Ron smiled sheepishly, his hand on the back of his neck. "I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't understand half of what the book was saying."

"That's not surprising. But still, you read? Without Hermione hounding you?"

"Oh, shut up."

Harry raised his hands to pacify the boy. "Ron reads. Unbelievable," he murmured just loud enough for Ron to hear and glare at him.

They climbed the stand faster than the last time, finding Hermione and Neville already waiting. "Where were you?" questioned the bossy girl upon seeing them.

"We were caught up in a discussion on wizard's reproductive habits," Harry said with an uncaring shrug and a knowing smirk on his face.

Hermione was successful in keeping her silence for all the twenty seconds it took for Harry and Ron to take their seats. "I read in an article that the baby's magic fights the possible issues of his or her genetic makeup as early as six weeks after the conception. And depending on the number and severity of the issues, it is possible for baby's magic to fight them. It warned, though, that if a union is too closely related, the chances are it won't be enough and the baby will have problems."

As soon as the bushy-haired girl started, Ron and Harry grinned at each other.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second round of Interschool Quidditch Tournament. Our first match is between Delacour's Firebirds and Krum's Conquerors."

As soon as they heard Lee's voice, the group stopped talking and turned their attention to the pitch. Harry, once again, fighting his jealousy when Hermione perked up as soon as she spotted Viktor on his broom. _And I can't even hate the guy because he's a nice dude, and we flew together. That was some bonding shit._

Harry watched the two seekers as the two teams' chasers tried and failed to get the score advantage against the opposition. The French keeper's good form was offset by the physical play of the Bulgarians, resulting in an even score throughout the game.

On the seekers front, Krum tried every trick in the book to take Fleur out of the game early, both physically and mentally. He tried feints to drive the gorgeous veela to the ground and pulled crazy manoeuvres to dishearten her. It didn't work.

 _You can say a lot about Fleur but she's not a quitter._

The haughty witch circled the pitch, her focus on finding the snitch alone and she might have succeeded if Krum hadn't seen it a moment after she did. As soon as she shot off after the golden ball, Krum was on her tail. He had no trouble shouldering his way in front of Fleur with their broom so similar and his physical advantage.

The snitch didn't allow them to catch it easily though. The duo had to chase the little bugger for almost five minutes before Krum caught it with a bizarre sloth-roll, winning the game with two hundred and ten points to Firebirds' seventy.

Harry cheered with everyone when the excellent chase ended, but his cheers paled compared to Hermione's. He felt something twist inside him, something ugly, and he fought it, not wanting to act petty.

He, Ron and Neville went to lunch as Hermione left them to congratulate the Bulgarian boy, leaving Harry's insides in an even tighter knot. Neville and Ron did their best to keep his mind off of the troubling subject as the three of them helped ate the small feast Winky once again prepared. _I really need to talk to her about this. Oh, men, she'll cry again, and I'll feel all kinds of bad._

"Listen up," he said as he left the changing cabin to find the whole team waiting for him right before the game. "We are seventy points ahead of Viktor's team. That means unless we fuck up during this game or the one against Krum, we need not worry about the scores." He pointed at himself and smirked. "I'm just saying don't get too comfortable on your brooms. I'm ending this game fast."

For maybe the first time since his first game, he didn't have a smile on his face as he flew out of the tunnels. For reasons he wasn't willing to admit to himself, this wasn't a game. It was a job. He glanced at Hermione for a moment, unable to stop himself from wondering if she watched him like she did Krum.

She didn't.

So, he shook Cedric's hand with a solemn expression, nodding at the boy in good sportsmanship but ignoring his smile and quizzical look. When Bagman released the snitch, Harry kept his eyes on the elusive ball, barely blinking. He was vaguely aware Cedric watching him in a loud silence as Bagman released the bludgers, then threw the quaffle.

Harry took off like a cannon, going after the snitch with an obsessive focus. Cedric followed him unsurely, not knowing at first whether Harry was after the snitch or not. By the time Cedric realised the truth, Harry had closed in on the snitch, chasing the ball without a blink.

Harry knew this was out-of-character of him. Oh, he had always taken the game seriously but never with such an obsession.

He stalked the elusive ball, not even caring he had to pull crazy manoeuvres and even fly dangerously close to the other players to do so, zigzagging after the bastard. And, man, the ball didn't want to be caught, changing directions and speed without a moment's notice.

The snitch flew to the stand Hermione was on, turning inches before hitting a spectator. Harry followed it without a care, scaring the front row of the stand. The golden ball took a dive; Harry took a dive after it, aware Cedric was closing the distance from his flank. The ball turned once again inches off the ground, slowing down to do so. Harry didn't fall this time, catching the ball without losing control of his broom and ending the game in ninety seconds at a hundred and fifty to ten.

He dismounted the broom and released the snitch before catching it again as he waited for his team to land near him. It was Ron who arrived first, being the closest. "Bloody hell! That was awesome."

Harry grinned and winked at his friend. "I told you not to get comfortable on your broom."

"Yes, but I didn't expect you to... do whatever that was. Ninety seconds, man! That has to be a record." Ron faux-glared at him for a moment before grinning again. "I was so surprised, I let in a goal as I watched you."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said as the rest of his teammates landed with a little less enthusiasm. "We are two hundred and twenty points ahead going into the next game. There is no way this team can lose by that much so from this point on, we trained to play against Harpies, people!"

That announcement raised the spirits, the team cheering as one. They celebrated as they strolled towards the changing rooms, the twins debating whether they should shower because they didn't have time to sweat. Their celebration ended as an angry Hermione stomped her way towards Harry.

"You losers go ahead. I have a feeling that cloud of anger over her head is for me," Harry said, smiling thinly at his friends.

"What was that, Harry? This was supposed to be a friendly tournament. People came here to enjoy a day with their family, watching Quidditch. Not to pamper to your ego."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to blow up at Hermione. _Even if she basically agreed with Snape_. "You should take a walk to calm yourself. We'll talk about this later," he hissed, unable to stop some anger from showing in his tone. He walked past the fuming girl, needing to clear his own head as well before he dealt with her.

"What's wrong with you?"

Harry stopped in his tracks. _Deep breaths, Potter. You don't want to say anything you will regret.  
_  
"It's like you don't even care about the charity."

 _That did it_. "Come with me," Harry said in a cold tone and walked into the tunnel at a trot. "Out." He slammed the door shut as soon as his teammates left. "How dare you?" he hissed, not even looking at her. "I spent countless hours and a small fortune for this. I sucked up to businessmen and women, pretended to be someone I'm not to the press, stayed up at nights to find more ways to raise money."

He turned around, his eyes blazing. "I don't care about charity? Half a million pounds. That's how much money I donated. Three times the size of my trust fund. And you dare?!" Harry roared. He took a calming breath, turning away from her wide brown eyes, not liking her expression. "Hermione, I love you. You are my best friend and the one person I trust most in the world but you need to get your mind straight."

"Harry, I-"

"No. I don't want to hear it." He messed his hair in frustration. "Lately, you have been acting all kinds of strange," he said, his tone calmer. He walked a few feet away from the girl and turned away. "I let it go at the moment but I can't anymore. Do you know how insulting it is that you'd think I'd hire a prostitute? ME!"

"But you said-" Hermione began, confusion clear on her face, but Harry didn't let her finish.

"What did I say, Hermione? I said it cost me the rest of my basilisk money."

"You said her boss was reluctant to allow her to come," Hermione reminded Harry unsurely.

"I meant Healer Abbott," Harry snarled. "She said it could put Wendy's health in jeopardy but when I agreed to pay for a more comprehensive treatment, she consented." He smiled sadly.

Hermione's cheeks flushed and eyes moisten, making Harry feel like shit. "I- I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I was angry and didn't think it through. I... I'm sorry."

"You were angry? Why?"

Hermione looked at Harry like he was crazy. "You were bragging about your date."

"I wasn't bragging. I was sharing. Ron and I had discussed who we would take to the ball earlier that day. And even if I was, what would you have me do? Go to the ball alone?"

"We were going to go together," she answered in a small voice, almost a whisper.

Harry's righteousness and anger faltered at that, turning into confusion and surprise. "And what? You, Viktor and I would go as a threesome?" Harry asked incredulously, grimacing.

"I said Viktor asked me, I didn't say I said yes," she huffed.

"You told him you would think about it," Harry pointed out. "That tells me a lot about which direction you were leaning towards."

Hermione scrunched up her face and murmured unintelligently, repeating herself louder with flushed cheeks when Harry asked. "I said I didn't want to say no in case you wanted to go only as friends."

"You are kidding me, right?" Harry asked in a high-pitched voice. "I had, just a few days earlier, told you I was attracted to you."

"But you also said you didn't have time to date anyone."

"Of course, I don't," Harry yelled in frustration. "I spend every waking minute with you or working on the tournament. I haven't even touched the golden egg yet, I have so little time."

"So, it wasn't going to be a date, then," Hermione said, her tone making it clear she was right.

"When is the ball, Hermione?"

"In twenty-fifth."

"When do the tournament end and my schedule becomes manageable again?"

Hermione's eyes widened and cheeks flushed in understanding. "In twenty-fifth."

Harry nodded at the girl and glared, though his heart wasn't in it.

"I'm sorry."

Harry took a deep breath and repeated his action from earlier, making his hair even more of a mess. "Dammit, Hermione, I don't want you to apologise. Lord knows I've done my fair share of acting like an arse before. I don't understand when things have gotten so complicated between us."

"When Viktor asked me out," Hermione supplied helpfully, ducking her head when Harry turned a glare on her.

"And that's a whole other subject I don't want to get into. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy but, please, don't mention him if it's unrelated to either of the tournaments."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, lifting her nose.

"Are you fucking serious? Why not?" Harry exclaimed. "You understand this whole communication problem started because you like him, don't you? I've seen it coming too, what with the constant flirting and checking each other out."

"Like you don't flirt with Fleur!"

"It's not the same thing."

"It is."

"Is not."

"How is it any different?" the brown-eyed girl asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"For one, Fleur and I both know nothing will ever happen between us. She's a cool girl, and yes, she has the body of a model, but there is no romantic connection with her. She's a high maintenance girl who enjoys the sparkly things, like Triwizard Tournament. I am a guy with inferiority problem who shies away from the spotlight. A relationship between us could never work."

Hermione raised her nose at Harry, unwilling to concede defeat. "You sound like you gave it a lot of thought."

Harry chuckled. "It didn't take a lot of brain power, trust me. It was obvious the moment she called me a 'leettle boy' in a snobbish tone." Harry shook his head, a small smile on his lips thanks to most of the tension leaving his body. "The whole flirting between us is a game. We needle each other and flirt outrageously to get a rise. You and Viktor are attracted to each other on an emotional level. You should see the way you look at each other." By the end, there was no sign of a smile on Harry's face, leaving nothing but vulnerability behind.

"God! We aren't even dating yet I sound like an insecure boyfriend."

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated.

"Enough with the apologies!" Harry snapped, feeling terrible not a moment later. "You can't help your emotions." He chuckled at his mess of emotions, feeling drained and lost.

"What now?" Hermione asked after a long minute of silence.

"You will go to your date with Viktor and we will go back to being best friends," Harry answered after a long moment of thinking.

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, her eyes moistening.

Harry smiled sadly at his best friend. "I can't have this in my life, Hermione. This... this ambiguity. I don't want a relationship I will constantly worry. A relationship like that is doomed to fail and our friendship is far too important for me to risk. Viktor either doesn't know about you and me or doesn't care. Either way, you have something between you two. You should take the chance to learn more about it."

 _Don't fucking cry. You will make me feel worse than I already feel._

"But- I-"

"It's okay, Hermione. It really is," Harry said and took a long route out of the locker room, unable to stay in the same room with her at the moment. "Go be with Viktor."

He walked out of the tunnel, taking a deep breath of fresh winter air, smelling the incoming snow storm. Just as he took another step forward, Hermione's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Fuck you, Potter! You don't get to tell me what to do."

Harry's brain shut down at the surreality of the moment as he turned around. He didn't know what the focus on; the cursing or the indignation in her voice.

"Yes," Hermione confessed, "I like Viktor, and I flirted with him. It was exciting, being courted by a famous guy every girl in the school fantasised about."

"Gee, thanks. That makes me feel all giddy and warm inside," Harry quipped, as he looked up when he felt a snow land on his nose. "Besides, I'm more famous, and Ginny is more than enough of a fan."

Hermione snickered but ignored what he said. "And I'm sorry for that. You don't need and don't deserve to feel you have to compete with another boy. There isn't a competition."

This time it was Harry who snickered.

"What's so funny?"

"I do not know if you meant I can't compete with Viktor or if Viktor can't compete with me. You are being all confusing again which is why, need I remind you, this whole thing started."

The chocolaty-eyed witch smiled brightly, her cheeks blushing cutely in contrast with the falling snow. "You know what I meant," she said stepping closer to him.

"I really don't," the emerald-eyed wizard responded, a roguish smile on his lips as he stepped closer, the fog of his breath caressing her.

Hermione said nothing, choosing to let her actions do the talking as she closed the small distance between them and kissed Harry, her heart beating a mile a minute.

Harry didn't need a moment or any encouragement to kiss back. their lips staying in contact only a moment but telling all there was to tell.

"I still don't know what you meant," Harry whispered as he caressed her cheek.

"No competition."


	9. Partners In Crime

"... No competition."

Harry couldn't help himself. He leaned in for another kiss, his lips lingering for a moment after. "There is still one issue, though," he whispered, hating himself for breaking up the moment.

"What?" Hermione asked, feeling Harry's smile on her lips.

"Your date with Viktor."

Hermione smiled, her eyes bright and a grin on her mouth. "I never said yes to him."

"Huh," Harry breathed out, his eyes on her flushed cheeks where snowflakes were melting upon landing. She was beautiful. "I should stop assuming things."

The beautiful witch kissed him again. "Yes, you should."

"You should be more clear when you are talking to me."

The beautiful witch kissed him again. "Yes, I should."

"We should kiss more, like all the time."

The beautiful witch giggled and kissed him again. "Yes, we should." Another kiss followed, this time going on longer, with the teenagers holding each other closer and enjoying the novel sensations.

Harry's cheek was starting to hurt from smiling so much but he savoured it. "I still can't take you to the ball."

Hermione pouted for a moment before nodding, a lingering sadness staying in her eyes. "Tell me about Wendy."

The green-eyed wizard's smile turned softer, melancholic. "She's a beautiful nine-year-old girl. Death Eaters tortured her mother towards the end of the blood war. She survived mostly intact but there were lingering issues due to the exposure to dark magic. She died in labour. That exposure to dark magic messed with Wendy's development while she was still in the womb. Her physical growth was stunted so she's smaller than she's supposed to be. Her skin is greyish because her liver doesn't work right. She has little to no control over her magic."

Harry shook his head sadly, a lump in his throat making it harder to talk. "Healer Abbott said it was rare for a child with this condition to survive past their second birthday. She's a miracle," he whispered in an awed tone. "Abbott and I agreed her case would be the first order of business when they open a research department. They will look into bone marrow and liver transplants as an option. If bone marrow works, they could get her started on a special potion to increase her growth hormone levels."

"Harry, that's wonderful."

"It might not work. Abbott is hopeful but..." He shook his head to clear it off melancholic thoughts. "You'll love her. She's such a sweet little girl."

Hermione sat on the snow, pulling Harry with her and putting his hand around her shoulder. "I'm glad one good thing came out of all this confusion."

Harry sighed, and took Hermione's smell in, enjoying the mixture of snow and parchments. "What will you do about the ball?"

"I'll figure something out." Hermione turned her head with a smirk. "Maybe I'll accept Viktor's offer."

Harry gulped and put aside his insecurities, his trust in Hermione unwavering. "Maybe. Though if you do, you should be clear about your intentions. No need for further drama." He chuckled. "Ron can't handle it."

"Ron?"

"He was all sad and confused because of the tension between us." Harry's chuckles turned to laughter. "We really are a trio. If there is a problem between two members, the third suffers for it just as much."

"I know what that's like," Hermione said, referring to the trouble between Harry and Ron earlier that year. "How do you think Ron will respond to us being... us."

"Before I'd say he'd be upset and envious but now, I know he won't."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

Harry leaned on his back on the snow-covered grass of the stadium, taking Hermione with him. "He told me. He said when you first agreed to be my date, he was upset, preparing a long rant about you choosing me over him. But when he made it to the Quidditch team, he got over it."

She put her chin on Harry's chest, her eyes on Harry's. "I don't understand."

"It's simple; Ron needs to feel special. He focuses on what he lacks in life and what other people have. He doesn't stop to think about the things he has but other people don't. Like with money and fame when it comes to me. He focuses on the perceived good of my situation, ignoring the fact I have those things because my parents are dead." He shrugged, making Hermione's chin move closer to his face. "He is who he is."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I never figured you for being this good a character analyst." She poked Harry on his stomach. "Have you been holding out on me, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, I am a closet genius. I hide it so people underestimate me."

"You should have been in Slytherin," the brown-eyed girl joked.

Harry snaked his arms around Hermione's waist, pulling her closer to his face. "Funny you should say that. Sorting Hat said I'd do great in Slytherin."

"Why'd you choose Gryffindor?"

Harry smiled. "I didn't. I just didn't want to go to Slytherin."

"Why not?"

"Masterfully executed conditioning," Harry answered. "Dumbledore made sure I met the right people; his people. Hagrid and Ron both claiming Slytherins were dark wizards left quite the impression on me. I was already a freak at Privet Drive. I didn't want to go to the evil house and be a freak in this world as well."

The brown-eyed girl bit her lower lip in thought, hypnotising Harry with the beauty of the action. "It sounds like a conspiracy theory."

Harry blinked and gave a small shake of his head. "It was a blatant manipulation, it was. I was an insecure and naive eleven-year-old boy in a strange new world. I would have become best friends with anyone who treated me nice. It was a novelty for me; being treated like a person."

Hermione listened to Harry's explanation with wide eyes, understanding more of the green-eyed boy than she ever did. "You were abused." It was a statement of a fact, not a question anymore. No more room for doubt in Hermione's mind.

"Hah! Abused. Until I started primary school, I thought my name was Freak Boy. My family had neglected to tell me my name is Harry Potter."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, looking at Harry with horror and tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Shit happens."

She shook her head vehemently. "Not this. Never this. This isn't just a random tragedy. It's an outright crime, punishable with prison time."

Harry's lips curved up in the face of Hermione's outrage for his sake. "I'm over it."

"Harry, I understand wanting to let the past stay in the past but you can't do that with this. A family like that shouldn't be allowed near children."

Harry sighed in defeat, and a little bit of frustration. "What would you have me do, Hermione? Go to the police? What can they do? It's my word against theirs. And let's say they got what they deserved and went to prison, where would I go? I am still a minor."

Hermione lowered her eyes and bit her lips, letting Harry know she had an idea. She looked up, determination clear on her face. "You can get emancipated."

"What's that?"

"It's when a minor is given the rights of an adult to protect them from their family," she explained. "You'd need to prove your mental maturity. You are rich so that's not a problem." She scrunched up her face, internally debating something. "You can use Triwizard Tournament to establish several government officials considered you mature enough to be a part of a tournament for adults. You can use the Quidditch tournament to establish you can handle responsibility and your own finances."

"You are serious?" Harry asked dubiously. "You think I should do it?"

Hermione nodded without a wait. "I do. If the situation was any different, I wouldn't but you are better off by yourself than you are with those... fuckers!" she said, last word a hesitant scream of anger.

Harry grinned, enjoying his - girlfriend? girl friend? - partner's dirty mouth. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Hermione snorted, anger leaving her in a second. "You should do it, Harry."

"Where would I live?"

"How much money do you have in your vault?"

"Five thousand galleons a year. At seventeen, a quarter of Potter vault will be available to me. At twenty-one, the rest."

"That's almost hundred thousand pounds a year. Almost as much as my parents earn together. You can easily afford a place."

Harry hesitated to make a decision this big. "I'll think about it."

Hermione raised herself on her elbows, looking at Harry imploringly. "There is nothing to think about, Harry."

"I'll talk to Dumbledore and see what he thinks," he said, playing to her respect of authority.

Hermione pursed her lips knowingly but said, "Fine. Let's go." She stood and held out her hands to help Harry up.

"Now?"

"Now," Hermione said with steel in her voice.

Harry didn't consider himself a particularly smart guy but even he knew to do as Hermione says when she uses that tone. He took Hermione's hand and stood. "We kissed for the first time an hour ago and you already run my life. What did I get myself into?" he cried dramatically.

"Shut up and do as I say," Hermione joked.

"Yes, dear."

The newest couple of Hogwarts walked to the castle, hugging each other to stave off the cold, and navigated their way to Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore smiled widely when he saw their joined hands, causing both teenagers to blush and draw away. "How can I help you this lovely day?"

Harry cleared his throat to talk but Hermione beat him to it. "I think Harry should apply for emancipation."

 _Right to the chase. Awesome._

"What the ball in chains said," Harry said when the headmaster looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

Neither Harry nor Dumbledore hid their smiles when Hermione blushed and glared.

"And why do you think Harry should get emancipated, Miss Granger?"

"His family is awful. They are criminally abusive and Harry would do so much better on his own. I think he already proved he can pretend to be responsible."

"Hey!"

Dumbledore conceded with a nod. "That, he did. But there are many other things to consider. Life as an adult may seem easy to you as children but, indeed, it's the opposite. That's why we, as adults, like to ensure you stay children as long as possible."

Hermione wouldn't be swayed so easily. "Harry has the finances to lead a comfortable life."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Money isn't an issue here. In life, you can't just throw money at problems to solve them. Harry is a reasonable young man with a good head on his shoulders, there is no doubt about that. I'd even go so far as to say he is one of the most resourceful people I've had the pleasure of knowing. But that doesn't mean he's ready to live on his own. I've seen many young people graduate from Hogwarts and falter. There are many aspects to being an adult. What to eat? How to clean your home? What is acceptable behaviour for an adult and what is excessive?"

Harry snorted, earning himself questioning looks from the 'adults' in the room. "Sir, I've learned how to cook, clean and take care of a garden when I was six. Since then, I became something of a homemaker."

Guilt flashed on Dumbledore's face for a moment before his face returned to his usual serene expression. Hermione just looked sadder and madder at the same time.

"I'm sorry to hear that, my boy. But there are still other factors-"

Harry smiled at the stubborn old man. "Sir, why don't we pretend you listed all of your excuses and we answered them, and get to the real reason you don't want me to leave Privet Drive?"

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle, amused, and tilted his head. "After Hagrid brought you to Hogwarts that Halloween, I visited Godric's Hollow to see the house for myself; to see if I can find clues as to what happened. I found a notebook with your mother's handwriting." His smile turned sad and he leaned forward. "Lily Evans was a brilliant student. She would have given you, Miss Granger, a run for your money, as the saying goes. Lily Potter was much better. Smarter, more powerful and cunning. She was, truly, a magnificent witch. She had so much potential. Potential to be a force for good."

"But I digress. I found a notebook belonging to your mother. In it, she briefly explained a blood protection ritual she used on you. When she sacrificed herself for you, she activated the ritual, casting the ultimate protection on you." His eyes lost focused as he went on a trip down the memory lane. "That protection is in your blood. I used some of your blood to cast an illegal protection charm on your aunt's residence and when she took you in, no matter how bitterly, she sealed the protection. When you are in that house, no one can harm you. Not Voldemort. Not even me, if I was ever inclined to do so."

"In a way, I manipulated your mother's sacrifice to create a safe haven for you. For that safe haven to continue existing, you have to spend time in your aunt's house every year. That is why I sent and continue to send you to a house I know you hate, I know you suffer in. Because in the end, even if you suffered for it, you survived."

Harry and Hermione took time to process the information; Dumbledore allowing them to do so without a sound. _Blood protection. Sounds... shady._ "I understand why you made the decisions you did, sir, and I don't blame you for them. You made a decision you thought best; sacrificing my childhood to protect me."

The headmaster answered with a relieved, shaky smile, looking younger than ever.

Harry smiled back, happy to provide a sense of relief to his mentor. "Do you know why I was so compelled to help Dobby two years back, sir?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because I was Dobby; I am Dobby. And like him, I want my freedom and my dignity. I am really curious as to what those concepts feel like because I haven't got a clue."

The whitened wizened wizard looked impressed, yet unconvinced. "Do you know how many Death Eaters tried to get their hands on you before you arrived at Hogwarts?" The raven-haired wizard shook his head. "Four. Four times those protections saved your life, Harry."

"Then they did their job, sir. It's time to let them retire. Like you said, I am a resourceful boy. I've faced Voldemort twice since coming to Hogwarts, killed a basilisk, fought a swarm of acromantulas and over a hundred dementors. I saved three innocent lives, saved the school from closing and," he pointed at the sword hanging on a wall, "I proved myself a worthy Gryffindor."

"Now, I don't, for one second, believe I am ready for everything this world will throw at me; I'm not. But I am ready to face the odds of freedom; I earned it and yearn for it."

Dumbledore stroke his mighty beard in thought while Hermione smiled proudly at him. "Do you know why I agreed to the Quidditch tournament?"

"Because it made sense and it was for a good cause?" Harry ventured.

"Indeed, they made my decision easier. The main reason was to see how you handled a leadership position and how adaptable you are. I wanted to see when you were willing to compromise and when you would stand your ground. And I must say, you've made me proud. So, I'm willing to support you in your pursuit of emancipation if you are willing to compromise."

Harry grinned at his mentor. "I won't bribe you with sweets if you are looking to take advantage of poor, naive me, sir."

The mentor chuckled. "However will I get sweets now?"

"You can cast whichever protections you deem necessary around my new home."

"Good start, but not enough. I want to assign you guards."

Harry scratched his chin in thought. "How about I invite Remus to live with me?"

"Deal. I want you to carry a portkey with you at all times, even at home."

"As long as it's not an old shoe, I'm okay with that," Harry agreed with a nod.

"During summers, you will send me an owl with an agreed upon safety phrase to ensure your continued safety, once a week."

"No candy names," Harry bargained.

"Chocolate names?" Dumbledore asked with a grin.

"I'm willing to compromise."

"And, this is most important, I want to see improvements in your class work and study habits." He winked at Hermione. "Though, I'm sure Miss Granger will ensure that happens either way from now on."

Harry laughed as Hermione blushed.

"One other thing. I will install a private floo, connecting your house to the Burrow and this office only." Harry agreed with a nod. "Then, I believe, you have yourself a deal."

 _This is the best fucking day of my life._

"But I reserve the right to revisit this deal," Dumbledore warned. "Dark elements are on the rise and we don't know what the future holds. Someone out there put your name in Goblet of Fire; someone who wants to hurt you."

"You still haven't found who was behind it, eh?"

Headmaster gave a sad headshake. "They proved themselves elusive so far."

"There are too many unfamiliar faces around. Any of them could've pulled it off."

Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I don't believe a student could manipulate the enchantments on the goblet, but that still leaves us with too many suspects and not enough clues."

"It probably isn't any of the teachers, not even Snape. Though if my luck holds, Mad-eye will go crazy any day now and attack me."

"Professor Snape, Harry," admonished Hermione and Dumbledore at the same time, looking at each other in surprise.

"Merlin, I'm dating my headmaster!" Harry exclaimed in faux-horror. "Well, prettier and younger but still."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Headmaster magnanimously said.

"Hah."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, recognising something in Harry's expression.

"What? Oh, nothing. I just pictured you with a bushy beard tucked into your skirt." He grinned cheekily. He turned serious a moment later, turning to Hermione. "We are stupid."

"I don't know about you but I most certainly am not," she refused indignantly.

"Then how come we didn't think to use one of our greatest assets, one we know never lies?"

Hermione looked confused for all of two seconds before shameful realisation sat on her face. "The map!"

"The map?" the headmaster parroted.

"Back when they were in Hogwarts, my father and his friends made an interactive map of Hogwarts that shows where everyone is. It even showed Pettigrew last year. I thought it was a mistake but... Well, I know better now."

Dumbledore looked at Harry incredulously. "You have a map of the school that shows where everyone is?" Harry nodded. "It makes so much sense now. I always wondered how James and his friends could cause so much trouble without getting caught."

"I'll hand it over to you, sir," Harry offered generously, conveniently not seeing the 'damn right, you will' expression on Headmaster's face. "I'll make this sacrifice for the good of Hogwarts. You know, I give and give and give. I'm a great man."

Their meeting came to an end not long after that when Harry's stomach joined the conversation. As they climbed the moving stairs down, Harry couldn't help a big, stupid grin from forming on his face.

"You look happy," Hermione commented on the obvious.

"No more Dursleys." Hermione nodded, smiling softly. "No more chores."

"Well, you'll still have to clean the house and cook your meals, but you will do it for yourself."

Harry shook his head. "Winky will help me," he said absentmindedly, not realising the danger.

Hermione froze on her tracks, stopping Harry as well by pulling his hand. "Care to repeat that?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh shit."

"Oh shit, indeed, Mr. Potter." Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Now, I'm not jumping to conclusions. Why don't you explain what you meant by that?"

"You see- I- She- Okay, here it is. After the first match, I went to the kitchens to see Dobby and grab a bite. Dobby and I got to talking and Winky came up. Dobby said he was worried about Winky, said she couldn't handle not being with a family. From what he said, she was in a pretty bad spot, drinking herself to an early grave, so I offered her a chance to join my 'family'. Dobby cried and called me 'The Great Master Harry Potter Sir. winky rubbed herself all over me. Then force fed me three servings."

Harry had to take deep breaths after speaking so fast, his lungs burning.

"She was that bad?" Hermione asked in a sad little voice.

"I imagine anyone would be, in her shoes. Her whole life was turned upside down. Her life's work; gone. Her family; gone. She couldn't adjust, didn't want to adjust."

"Poor thing." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry, looking at him suspiciously. "At least tell me you are treating her okay? You are paying her, right?"

"Not exactly." Seeing her glare, Harry hurried to explain. "Do you pay your mother for cleaning the house and cooking dinner?" Hermione shook her head and opened her mouth to argue but Harry didn't let her. "It's the same thing for her. I am her family, now. Family takes care of each other. I gave her a pouch of money she could do anything with but I don't think she'll spend a knut on herself."

Hermione still looked unsure but didn't say anything, which Harry took as a win. The green-eyed boy took a moment to take in the brown-eyed girl. "I was wrong, you know."

"About what?"

He took a step forward and put a hand on Hermione's cheek. "You aren't my assistant. You are my partner. My equal."

Hermione smiled. "Partners. I like that."

"It sounds much better than girlfriend or best friend."

"It sounds... promising."

Harry leaned in, his lips inches away from Hermione's. "Will you be my partner in crime?"

"Sounds tempting."

"To partners in crime, then."


	10. I Win

"Ladies, Gentlemen and others, welcome to the final match of the Interschool Quidditch Tournament, where the finalist to play against Holyhead Harpies will be decided," Harry heard Lee Jordan announce. "So far, Potter's Pixies have dominated the tournament and have a two hundred points lead over Krum's Conquerors, so Krum will demand a good lead from his chasers. Meanwhile, in the Potter camp, Katie Bell has an injury and will miss this match. Another Weasley will join the team, this time female; Ginny Weasley. No one has seen her play yet, so this game is shaping up to be full of surprises so far."

"As I'm sure many of you remember, this morning, Delacour's Firebirds won against Diggory's Pufferclaws and in an odd twist of things, the two teams now share the third place. And here comes the Conquerors with Krum leading them..."

Harry tuned out the exciting boy, focusing his attention on his teammates. "You heard Lee. We have two hundred points advantage over them. You watched their chasers. You know they like to get physical but not dirty. Just consider them ethical Slytherins and you'll be fine," he told his chasers, two of whom grinned while the redheaded third smiled weakly.

"Tweedledee and Tweedledum," he called to the twins who smirked back, giving him the impression he would pay for that joke. _They weren't supposed to know Alice in the Wonderland. Fuck._ "I want you two to keep it simple this game. Just parry the opposing beaters and keep them off the game. I want every bludger you hit aimed at them and every bludger they hit sent back to them. But watch me for the signal. If we get a chance, we'll bloody Viktor."

"My king," Harry said with a bow to Ron who scowled and blushed. "Of the thirty-one attempted, only four shots were fakes; and of those four, only two earned them points. Don't over think things. If you see left, go left. Viktor's chasers don't like to complicate things from what we've seen."

He stepped back and raised his arms. "All we need to make it to the final is to keep the point difference under fifty." He smiled wickedly. "I don't care," he whispered. He continued, his voice getting higher gradually, "We will win this game. I want no doubt left as to which team is the best. We will win and we will show everyone why they should turn around and run when they hear a lion roar!"

The team left the lockers, cheering and yelling nonsense. Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulders to hold her back. He turned her around to him when he was sure they were alone. She looked sickish and sweaty, nerves getting to her. "Do you know what I thought when I first saw you play?" he asked her in a whisper.

Ginny shook her head, her nervousness keeping her from opening her mouth, lest she throws up all over her captain.

"I cursed my luck," he told her. "Because you are one of the best chasers I've seen. Better than both Angelina and Alicia." Ginny looked at him in surprise, disbelief clear on her face. Harry met her look with no deception. "I am serious. You are a better chaser than both. But, the three of them have been playing together for four years and with chasers, chemistry is more important than talent." He put a finger under her chin when she looked down, blushing, and lifted her face so she'd look at him. "I'm telling you this because I want you to believe me when I say I have no worries today."

Ginny took a deep, shaky breath and let it out before she spoke. "Okay. I've got this."

"Damn right, you do. You are a Weasley, and Weasleys are..." Harry trailed off.

"Too stubborn to roll over," Ginny finished.

"I was going to say 'too stupid to know when to give up' but that works." Harry grinned and dodged the punch the redheaded girl threw at his arm. "Hey, now! You can't hit the star of the team right before a big game."

She giggled and lifted her nose. "I'm the star of this team now."

"Wow. You went from no self-confidence to an arrogant in a manner of minutes there."

Ginny grinned and flicked her hair. "It's one of my many talents," she said, her voice husky and hypnotic.

Harry gulped. _Now, that's all kinds of confusing and wrong._ "I'm sure you do. Now, why don't we head on out so you can showcase some of those talents?"

Ginny nodded, winked and walked out of the room, her hips swaying. _Shit._

Harry took a deep breath to centre himself, putting the image of Ginny's walk out of his mind, before he hurried out the tunnels. He settled the broom on that sweet spot where it didn't hurt his genitals and was comfortable to sit on and flew into the snowy sky.

Loud cheers welcomed him to the field and he closed his eyes and basked in them. _I may hate being Boy-Who-Lived, but damn, I love it when they cheer for me on the Quidditch field._

He circled the field once before drifting to where Viktor was floating. "Ready to lose, Mr. international Quidditch star?"

Viktor glanced at Harry cooly but not coldly. "I don't lose."

"There is a first time for everything. And don't worry, people won't think less of you when the one you lose to, is Harry Potter."

"Da, they von't think less of me," Viktor answered with a small smile.

Their banter, if you could call it that, ended when Bagman walked to the middle of the field to start the game. He released the snitch and the bludgers before throwing the quaffle.

Harry, in a moment of brilliance, took off immediately towards the opposing goalposts, shifting his body as if he was chasing the snitch. As he closed in on the posts, he heard the telltale swoop of a broom right on his tail, ensuring him Viktor took the bait.

He turned his broom down in a swift move and flew towards the ground at top speed, making sure his body blocked as much of Viktor's view as possible. At the last second, he turned parallel to the grassy ground, the tip of his feet grazing the greens.

To his displeasure, Viktor copied his action perfectly. _Hell, he looks like he didn't even break a sweat, which is more than I can say for myself._

Still, it was a good start to the game for the two seekers who had grins on their face as they pushed each other on their way up.

"... and she scores the first goal of the game. Pixies; ten, Conquerors; zero. The game started with a certain bang, ladies and gentlemen, as the Potter tried a Wronski Feint and Weasley scored the first goal within a minute. Borisova passes to Vanko. He passes to..."

Harry spent the next few minutes pushing and pulling with Viktor, each trying to get into the other's head. He enjoyed it immensely, a new style of play for him for sure. It was on the six-minute mark when he's game changed thanks to Alicia's drop ball after she lost her balance because of a well-hit bludger.

Harry swooped down and caught the ball before it could fall over ten feet. He glanced around him, searching for a chaser to throw the ball to. He was in the scoring area which meant only one player from his team was allowed. So he tried his luck, and to his surprise, scoring, and bringing the score to thirty to ten.

 _It is an idea,_ Harry thought as his teammates cheered. _Let's see if we can do something with it._

In Quidditch, it wasn't all that unusual for a seeker to play an active role in the quaffle game, intercepting passes and blocking opposition players. The Irish had used the tactic to some extent in the World Cup final. But it was unusual for a seeker to get involved as his team was in control of the quaffle. It wasn't unseen but rare.

Harry flew towards Angelina, Alicia following his lead and joining them. "I think I'd make a decent chaser, don't you, girls?"

Alicia looked at him like he was crazy but Angelina seemed interested. "And if Krum sees the snitch while you are distracted?"

"It's a risk," Harry agreed. "I'll try to keep an eye on him, and I'll keep looking for the snitch. The chances are, I'd lose the chase anyway so this way, we can increase our lead until the snitch comes into play."

He flew off without listening to what the girls had to say as the opposing keeper passed the ball, starting the game. He didn't join his chasers in defence though, he flew towards Viktor to keep his new tactic a surprise.

Ginny's interception of a slow pass signalled the beginning of a new game. She passed the ball to Alicia as soon as she had it. Alicia threw a long pass to where Angelina was flying who, to the surprise of everyone, flew past the ball, allowing Harry to take it and crisscrossed the field.

He glanced around him and took in where his teammates were, throwing a curve ball to a few feet in front of Ginny. The redhead rolled on her broom's axis and sent the ball flying to Angelina. The dark-skinned girl scored another goal past the still surprised keeper, bringing their lead to thirty.

The Conquerors had trouble defending against four chasers, allowing the Pixies to bring the lead to sixty in ten minutes time with Harry scoring his second ever goal.

Krum, though, wasn't all brawn and no brain.

Harry cross-flew the field as Angelina passed the ball to Ginny who passed it to the undefended boy. As Harry watched the quaffle fly, he saw Viktor in his periphery, speeding towards Ron. He cursed and kicked the ball towards the opposing goal hoops before taking after the Bulgarian even though he suspected a feint.

Viktor zigzagged on the Pixies' side of the field; Harry following him as he took a sharp turn downwards. Harry anxiously followed the boy towards a painful collision, now understanding why the Irish seeker had kissed the ground repeatedly.

He couldn't sit back and let Viktor catch the snitch this early in the game so he had to follow, knowing it might be a dangerous feint. _It's not like I didn't pull the same stunt. How hard can it be to break right before the ground when you can't know when to pull?_

It was a lot harder to follow a feint than pull one, Harry discovered as he followed Viktor to a foot off the ground. When he came far too close to the ground for his liking, he banked to his right while the other boy banked left. He ignored the slight sting on his right foot thanks to the small contact with the ground that almost caused him to lose balance.

He flew upwards, cursing the Bulgarian with his eyes as the surly boy smirked at him. The green-eyed wizard stuck out his tongue at the other boy and flew off to intercept a pass, missing it by an inch and cursing aloud this time.

Ron, though, was on top of his game and caught the shot at the last second, making his captain proud.

Harry spent the next half an hour playing the part of a chaser and following Viktor as he pulled a stunt. Though his focus was suspect, his help with the quaffle allowed his team to increase their lead to a hundred and twenty before Viktor called for a timeout.

As he touched down, Harry could see the international star was unhappy with the way the game had gone so far and allowed himself a smug smile of satisfaction.

"Only forty more points and we'll have a perfect run in our hands," Angelina commented, bringing Harry's attention to his teammates. "What I don't get is, why Krum isn't copying our tactic?"

"I think he may yet do that," Ginny said with her thumb pointed at where the other team huddled together.

"No," Ron disagreed. "Krum wouldn't do that. He wouldn't risk the snitch for a few more goals. His only hope of winning is the snitch. He'll either send his beaters after Harry or pull one of them into the quaffle game to even the numbers."

"That would leave them undefended against the twins," Harry pointed out, his face screwed up in thought.

Ron shook his head. "He'll hope Fred and George will stay on defence. Either way, they'll mark you, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes as he thought what he could do to take advantage of the situation. "Here's what we'll do; for the first ten minutes, we play as we have. The twins will continue to defend and I will continue to assist our lovelies with their scoring. When I give my mark, which will be while they attack, we'll pull a switch. I'll pull half a Wronski, drawing Viktor to the middle circle." He pointed at the twins. "One of you will shot a bludger in front of us and yell when I need to dodge. We'll double bluff Viktor into a nice collision with the bugger. After that, I'll go back to playing full-time seeker while the twins will rain down bludgers at the hopefully injured Viktor."

"It will leave us with lesser numbers," Alicia pointed out.

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm hoping the sudden change in tactics will throw them off and confuse the beater but if it doesn't, you'll have to make do."

He looked at Ron for a confirmation on his tactic, knowing the redhead knew more about Quidditch. His best mate nodded his approval, and Harry grinned. "We have ten minutes to increase our lead to at least a hundred and fifty. If we can do that, we'll minimise the risks of the switch. Now, before we go, I have a few words for you people," he said and waited dramatically. "You rock! I mean, come on. So far, we are killing in this tournament. I'm willing to bet a thousand galleons that Gwenog Jones is sweating in her seat, worrying about what we'll do to them in three days."

He nodded at the smiling faces of his friends. "Let's show her why she should turn around and run when we roar!"

Ginny snorted at Harry's new line but cheered with the rest as they mounted their brooms and took off. Harry stuck close to the redheaded girl. "I'm letting out my inner Wood if you are wondering."

"What about your outer wood?" Ginny asked in a lewd tone, her gaze dropping low before finding Harry's eyes.

Harry blushed but grinned. "You are far too young to wonder about anyone's outer wood, missy."

"I'm only a year younger than you," Ginny complained.

"And I'm far too young to wonder about anyone's goal post," Harry agreed. "So, let's leave those fancy ideas where they belong, okay?"

"And where do they belong?" asked the indignant girl.

"Showers and sweaty dreams," Harry answered with a wink. "Because they are fantasies, nothing more," he added with a serious face, hoping the girl would get the message.

"For now."

"I can't argue with that. I'm not a seer but I don't want you to get your hopes up. It won't happen for the foreseeable future, if ever," Harry warned.

"Okay," Ginny said with a nod and a sad smile. "Get back to me if you change your mind."

"I'll keep it in mind." Harry flew off towards the middle of the pitch, leaving a sad but determined girl behind. Ron restarted the game with a pass to Alicia who flew straight before passing the ball over her shoulders to a cross flying Ginny. The redhead didn't keep the ball, choosing to send it flying to Harry. Harry charged ahead while he waited for Angelina to get into position, finding the presence of the blonde beater who followed him oddly comforting. As soon as Angelina got close enough to the scoring area, he let the ball loose, adding a slight curve to throw off the defenders.

Angelina, instead of catching the ball in the scoring area, kicked it to the left hoop, surprising the keeper and increasing their lead to a hundred and thirty.

 _I fucking love winning, especially when I call the shots._

He flew higher, allowing himself a moment of respite and a chance to observe the game. He didn't have much time in that position as he had to dodge a speeding bludger. The bludger returned after Harry's dodge, his marker sending the ball back at him.

 _It's a good tactic, I'll give them that. Marking me bodily while I'm mobile and pestering me with a bludger while I'm stationary._

The young seeker kept dodging as the beaters double-teamed him, flying randomly while racking his brain for a way out of his trouble. He saw his trouble when an opposing chaser flew past him from underneath. He followed her right away, having trouble keeping up because of the constant irritant sent on his way. He caught up to the girl as she turned around to defend. Just before he collided with her, Harry tilted his broom upwards, flying over her head and blocking her line of sight so she didn't see the incoming bludger.

The brown bastard hit the blonde girl in the stomach, stealing the air out of her lungs but Harry couldn't worry as Alicia passed the ball to him. He caught it and sped off right away, feeling pleased with himself. As soon as he entered the scoring area, he faked right, sending a curve ball to the left instead and bringing the lead back up to a hundred and thirty.

The green-eyed wizard continued to help his chasers in attacks for another ten minutes while he kept an eye on Viktor. When he felt ready, he caught a twin's eyes and nodded before rushing off towards the middle circle.

He knew the Bulgarian was following without looking back as the cheers of the crowd rose to a new level. As he rode the broom down, he waved in the air, instead of going straight, to block the older boy's eyesight. When he heard someone yell his name, he levelled his broom and dodged out of Viktor's way.

He heard a yelp from behind him and cheers of the crowd increase another fold, telling him his plan was a success. He flew towards the smug looking twin and high-fived him before rising above the gameplay to circle the pitch and look for the golden fugitive.

Viktor joined him a minute later, rolling his left shoulder to test his mobility and relax the muscles. "Dat vos good."

Harry grinned at his friend, satisfied of the older seeker's pain. "Thanks. I knew the only way we could get to you was a double-bluff."

"It von't be enough to vin."

"I hope I'm good enough to win. The injury is an added advantage," Harry said as he continued to draw lazy circles. "Your beater looks lost," he pointed out to Viktor, hoping to distract the boy.

The older boy shook his head as he threw a look of disgust at his beater. "My team sucks," he complained.

"My team is awesome," Harry bragged in return.

"They are superb," Viktor agreed. "Too fucking good."

"Of course, they are. They are mine."

Viktor didn't answer, he instead sped off towards the Pixies' goal post. It took Harry several seconds to realise the Bulgarian was gone and when he realised, he followed the older boy with curses streaming out of his mouth.

Harry pushed his broom as much as he could as he zigzagged after Viktor and the snitch, closing the distance little by little and hoping the snitch stayed elusive.

The golden ball obeyed his wishes, and Harry planted himself next to the Bulgarian, pushing with his shoulders to unbalance him. It didn't work as Harry's thin frame didn't have enough muscles to make a serious impact on the well-built boy. Harry gave up on that tactic soon, instead focusing on getting ahead as the race turned vertical, the snitch choosing to go skyward.

Their race continued on the same vein for several minutes, neither boy gaining the upper hand for long. It was when the snitch sped downwards that equilibrium changed; to Viktor's advantage sadly. While they were racing horizontally or towards the sky, Harry's superior broom and lesser weight were enough to offset Viktor's superior skill and strength. And Viktor had superior skill, Harry had no delusions on that.

On a race assisted by the gravity, Harry's lesser weight stopped being an advantage while Viktor's muscular frame became more suitable thanks to air resistance.

Harry tried his best as Viktor inched ahead of him and closer to the snitch and considered his options. He knew, by instinct, that Viktor would catch the ball before the ball reached the ground unless it changed directions. So, he had to do something reckless. _But what? I can't just dive to the ground. I wouldn't fall faster. And I would die! There is no way I'm touching Viktor's broom. I've got ethics. What to do? What to do?_

Harry's thoughts raced faster than the chase but he found no solution to the problem. He tried his luck with pushing the boy to unbalance him once again, knowing it was a long shot and turning out to be right. So, all he could do was try his best and hope for a miracle.

The miracle... didn't come. Viktor caught the ball well before the ground caught either of the three racers, and finished the game.

"Viktor Krum catches the snitch, bringing the exciting game to a draw at two-hundred and twenty points for each team. A rarity for Quidditch."

The green-eyed loser floated down with a sad smile as the crowd celebrated the smug winner's victory.

He didn't realise for a while that the victory was shared as his team had managed to bring the lead enough for a draw.

Still, this is the first time I didn't catch the snitch without an interference. Hell, I caught the snitch with interference more than I failed to catch it.

He didn't let the failure discourage him though. Not only his team finished the first stage of the tournament with no losses, he put up a good fight against the world's best seeker.

And it's comforting to know we almost pulled another Irish victory and won the game even after losing the snitch.

Both teams descended around them in cheers; Viktor's cheering his win and Harry's cheering their team's win. He smiled at his teammates as the twins tackled him to the ground, almost breaking his arms. Still, they didn't, and he laughed with them.

"Harpies, here we come!" Angelina yelled as she hugged his blonde teammate.

Harry pushed the clingy and tickling twins off of him, laughing uncontrollably. Who knew I was ticklish?

"Get off him, you idiots. We have a match in three days. We need our captain," Ginny scolded before helping Harry up. "You okay?"

"Ye- Yes, I- I'm okay," Harry managed in between laughter and deep breaths. He turned to Viktor who was talking to a teammate. "Good game, Viktor," he said as he held out his hand.

"Da. You are talented. Better than Lynch," Victor praised as he shook the younger boy's hand. "You shall train and we' shall play in ninety-eight World Cup final."

"We'll see," Harry answered. "But if we do, don't expect such an easy win."

"No easy vin. You did vell. Next time, you'll do better," the Bulgarian disagreed and left him with his team to meet a rapidly approaching Hermione.

Harry felt the ugliness return but didn't allow it to gain ground. He liked and trusted Viktor and he... Well, he trusted Hermione more than he trusted anyone, including himself, so there wasn't an issue. If only this ugly jealousy would go away.

He returned his attention to his teammates and gave half a hug to a beaming Ron. "How are you feeling, knowing you will play against one of the BQL's top contenders?"

Ron's smile dimmed but his enthusiasm didn't falter. "Nervous and excited. Man! I know it's a long shot but we can win if we play a little better than we did today."

"You think so?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, doubtful.

"Yes! I mean, Ginny was a great substitute for Katie, so we won't suffer next match even if Katie doesn't get better. Angelina and Alicia were on top of their game, a lot of assists and steals. Fred and George may lack in adaptability but they make up for it with stable performances," Ron analysed. "And you! Oh, man! You were great. Yes, you failed to catch the snitch, but you were a great captain today. All of your tactics worked and worked great."

Harry's grin was painfully wide at Ron's praise. Viktor's praise felt good, stroked his ego. But Ron loved Quidditch to a degree of fanaticism rivalled only by Oliver Wood, and if Ron praised his tactics, he must've done well. "Thanks. You did well too, calling Victor's tactics."

"Thanks," Ron said as his hands went to the back of his ducked head, embarrassed.

"I'm serious. If we could watch Harpies' games, between two of us, we could come up with a winning strategy."

Ron went from happily embarrassed to scarily serious in an instant. "Hm. That's a good idea. I know there are people who sell short recordings of Quidditch games, recorded with omnioculars. Maybe we could get our hands on a few."

"How much?"

"It wouldn't be cheap. An omniocular can record up to half an hour, depending on the quality. Midlevel empty ones cost two, three galleons. The recorded ones should cost somewhere between four to seven, depending on the recording and the duration."

Harry did the math on his head, considering how much he could afford to pay. "Your budget is fifty galleons. Use it well. Bargain and play to the 'pride of Hogwarts' angle. Focus on their primary tactics but get a wide range. Can you do that?"

Ron nodded, "I'll ask Charlie to scout the vendors. I can't leave the grounds. Not everyone gets a free pass like Harry Potter," he said, his tone sarcastically bitter.

Hermione chose that moment to cut in. "You played great, boys."

"Thanks, mama," Harry answered with a grin as he held out his arms for a hug.

"Done with your boyfriend then?" Ron asked sarcastically.

Oh, boy. Did I forget to tell Ron?

"Actually, just getting started," the brown-eyed girl answered and gave Harry a kiss, announcing the change in their relationship to the entire world.

"You two? Since when?" Ron stuttered with wide eyes and a grin.

"Since three days ago," Harry answered, scratching the back of his head. "I was going to tell you but-"

"But what? Didn't think your best friend needed to know?" Ron asked, a little hurt seeping into his voice.

"-but I forgot. I had a lot going on with the tournament and the research into emancipation," Harry answered.

"Oh," Ron said, understanding. "Wait, what's emancipation?

"It's when a minor is given the rights of an adult because of neglect, abuse or lack of proper guardianship," Hermione answered in her know-it-all persona.

"You want to get... emancipationed? Emancipated?" Ron asked, surprised once again.

"I was going to tell you but-"

Ron snorted. "I get it. A lot on your mind. Still, next time a big change happens, let alone two, tell me right away. I might feel insulted otherwise," he said. "Oh, and congratulations. On both the emancipation and getting such a fine bird."

"Thanks, mate," Harry said with a grin as Hermione gave an indignant, "Hey!"

"For your information, Ronald, I'm not a bird. And fine? Really? What am I? Food?"

"No. If you were food, I'd call you delicious, beautiful, lovely and adjectives of the same vein," Ron answered with brutal honesty. "But you are a girl so all you get is 'fine'."

"You'll make a woman so happy one day," Hermione sassed.

"Whoever she is, she better know how to cook," Harry said with a snort. "Or she must live at Burrow. Otherwise, that relationship won't work."

Ron didn't comment on their sarcasm, lost in his imagination with a lazy grin. "Hm. Mom's food and a beautiful girl in the same house."

"We lost him," Harry said to his partner, poking her. "I need to take a shower, so unless you plan to..."

"Harry? You were saying?"

"Sorry. Got lost in my imagination for a moment there. I need to take a shower. For more than one reason now," Harry informed Hermione with a healthy blush.

Hermione looked at Harry in confusion for a moment before she felt a pressure on her hip. "Oh? Oh. So, you'll..."

Harry's blush turned scarlet, making him feel lightheaded due to the blood rush to two separate regions. "Well... Yeah... I mean..."

"Thinking about me?" Hermione choked, her cheeks pink, though Harry couldn't tell whether it was because the idea repulsed her.

"Well... Yeah... I mean..."

"Sorry to interrupt this, whatever it is," Ron cut in, causing both of their blushes to increase once again, though they kept their eyes on each other. "As amusing as this whole conversation, if you call Harry's caveman impression that, is, I need to go."

"Bye," the new couple said at the same time, neither looking away from each other.

After a minute in silence, Hermione glanced around and seeing no one, asked once again, "So, you fantasise about me when you... masturbate?"

"Who else would I think about?" Harry asked, confusion winning over embarrassment.

"There are many girls in Hogwarts. Girls more beautiful than me," Hermione answered, her insecurities in the open for Harry to see.

"But you are my girlfriend," Harry said like it explained everything.

Hermione looked down, her face turning morose. "Doesn't mean you can fantasise about no one else."

"I don't get it."

Hermione turned her gaze to Harry's face again, giving a small smile involuntarily at the confused dislike on Harry's face. "It's fantasy. You can fantasise about anyone you want."

"So, I'm allowed to fantasise about anyone? Huh. Interesting," Harry commented distractedly before focusing back on Hermione. "Doesn't mean I will though."

Hermione gave a brilliant smile as a reward. "You won't?"

If it makes you that happy, of course, I won't.

Harry shook his head. "What would I need other girls for when I got you?"

Hermione's happy smile turned to a wicked smirk. "For that, you deserve a reward."

"And what is my reward?" Harry asked, his chin raised and a smug smile on his lips.

Hermione glanced around again to make sure they were alone. "Why don't we find a secluded spot where I can give you a few... ideas on what to fantasise on?"

Harry moved so fast, Hermione squeaked in surprise when he pulled her towards the stairs to a stand.

The brown-eyed girl giggled at Harry's enthusiasm. "Calm down, tiger. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm very curious about your ideas."

Hermione stopped in her tracks, stopping Harry as well by pulling his hand. She looked unsure as she spoke, "I hope you don't think... I mean to say..."

Harry lifted Hermione's head with his finger, looking her in the eye. "I think the girl I am falling for is going to snog me and I am very curious about how wonderful that will feel."

"Oh." Hermione took a deep breath, her smile turning real and excited once again. "What are we waiting for then?"

"You know, I may have lost the snitch," Harry said as they hurried towards their secluded destination. "But I got you."

"I don't get it."

Harry smiled smugly and his walk turned to swagger. "I got you. I win."


	11. Head Held High

"Are you okay, Harry? You seem distracted."

The boy smiled, his gaze focusing on his partner and basking in the concern and affection in her chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm more than okay." He rolled his eyes at her sceptical look. "It's the tournament," he half-explained as they each leaned against a pillar in the courtyard. "It's been stressful and I look forward to the chance to unwind but it was also fun and I'll miss the excitement."

Hermione leaned forward and patted his leg. "Don't worry. Triwizard Tournament is sure to keep you busy and excited."

Harry groaned and hit his head back onto the pillar. "Don't remind me. I still haven't touched the golden egg. Then there is the whole 'someone is trying to murder me' angle."

Hermione gave a bright, albeit a fake, smile. "See, back to normal."

Harry snickered at the reality of that statement. "Good old-fashioned life-threatening plot, eh?"

The brown-eyed girl nodded. "And I'm sure we'll figure out the clue once we work on it."

The green-eyed boy gave her an impressed look. "Hermione Granger not dying to know something right away." He sighed and shook his head in fake sorrow. "People change so fast. It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"Oh, cut it out. Need I remind you, it was you who came up with this tournament and dragged me into it. I haven't opened a book for anything unrelated to this tournament since this whole shindig started."

"And that's a good thing." Seeing Hermione's confused expression, he explained. "You never study focused. I don't mean focused as in focused on your work. I mean focused as in studying with a particular goal in mind. For example, you study arithmancy, runes, charms but you never try to create something with it. You are easily smart enough to come up with your own if you wanted but you don't push yourself to do that. You learn for learning's sake, and while that's admirable, it's also stopping you from reaching to your potential. Look at the things you did, you came up with for this tournament. It's because you were focused. You saw a problem and created a solution."

Hermione flushed cutely in embarrassed pleasure and ducked her head. "You are exaggerating my contribution."

"I most certainly do not," Harry declared in exaggerated outrage. "If it wasn't for you, moving the basilisk out of the chamber would take at least three weeks. That number is straight from Mr. Jimmywick if you remember. It was that serial charms or whatever you came up with that allowed him to move the parts quickly and efficiently, without needing me to open the sink every hour or so."

"That was just one thing and it hardly had anything to do with the tournament," Hermione countered weakly.

"How about the deal with Honeydukes, then? Mrs. Flume herself said I couldn't have gotten more than a quarter of what you convinced her to. Not only that but the whole new line of products was your brainchild."

The studious girl looked as if she was going to refuse again but instead, she tilted her head and went unfocused. "You may have a point there. I study and learn more efficiently when I have a clear goal in mind."

"That's because it forces you to get creative and think instead of just memorising a subject," Harry guessed with a grin. "Say 'thank you, Harry'."

"Why would I thank you?"

"Because I organised a tournament just so you can find out how you can study better," Harry answered with a cheeky grin and a wink.

"Sure. I will once you thank me for everything I've done for you," Hermione shot back and lifted her nose in the air.

"Never. You already have a big enough ego as it is."

The girl jumped to her feet. "Oh, you didn't!"

Harry followed suit, ready to bail at a moment's notice. "I did and I stand by it."

Hermione lunged forward and Harry ran off, forcing her to chase him around the courtyard. He didn't try too hard and Hermione managed to tackle him to the ground a few minutes later. They laid on the snow, Harry's arms snaking around Hermione's waist and both children breathing heavily and laughing.

The chocolate-eyed girl opened her mouth to say something but didn't, losing herself in the sparkling emerald eyes. She leaned forward and pecked Harry on the lips before sitting up, leaving Harry wanting more.

Harry, on the other hand, was experiencing difficulties. Not only he wanted the kiss to continue into a snogging area, but all the blood in his body was rushing lower thanks Hermione's delightful... derriere on top of his second brain. "You may want to get up," he said, his voice husky.

Hermione looked surprised and confused all of two seconds before she became aware of the pressure on her hip and flew out of Harry's embrace. "Eek!"

Harry slowly stood, stealthy hiding the horizontal rise of his rogue body part, before he turned to the red-faced girl. "How about we find ourselves a secluded spot so you can reward me again?"

Hermione folded her arms and lifted her nose, this time to hide her embarrassment of their compromising position. "You haven't done anything to earn a reward."

Harry narrowed his eyes and huffed in faux-irritation. "Consider it encouragement for a good behaviour then."

The now-calm girl snickered. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I wouldn't want it to go to your head."

"Wow. Once you get the upper hand, you sure know how to milk the situation," Harry groused. "Then how about you do it because I'm handsome and kind, and you want me too."

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently before giving up the act and took Harry's hand to drag him to a broom closet for some age-appropriate fun.

A knock on the door twenty minutes after disrupted their fun and earned a growl from Harry and a groan from Hermione. Harry wrenched the door open to find a red-faced Ron standing there awkwardly as he tried to balance two bags and two brooms. "The pre-game interview is about to begin. We need to change," he said hurriedly and stepped away to give two teenagers some space to gather themselves.

Harry looked at Hermione longingly, finding her dazed and hungry gaze irresistible. He gave her one last kiss that lasted until they were breathless again before sweeping a hand over his clothes to fix the wrinkles. He turned a glare at Ron and nodded at him to lead the way, Hermione joining his side a few moments later.

This was the first and last pre-game interview for the tournament. Originally, Harry had suggested they organise it for after the game but Dumbledore suggested it would crowd their schedule too much if the match went on for long; especially with the Yuletide Ball that same evening.

They arrived to find a small battalion of reporters sitting on the chairs house-elves had put together, in front of a long table that distanced the group from the reporters. Harry's teammates were standing near the table and having whispered conversation, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Harry patted the twins on the shoulder as he joined them and turned to the four chasers of his team. "How are you guys doing?"

"Good," Alicia lied, while the others nodded their acceptance of that description.

"Aw. Are you guys nervous? Do you want me to get you some warm milk to calm your nerves?" Harry mocked, earning glares from all seven of his teammates, including Ginny and Ron who had turned white as he realised what the interview would entail. "You know you don't have to do this, right? You don't have to answer any questions. You don't even have to sit on the table. I invited you because I thought you deserved your share of the spotlight and it would help alleviate some of the attention away from me."

"Wouldn't that make the interview a null point? Not answering, I mean," asked Ginny, the only one in the group who looked remotely in control.

"So what if it does? I don't know if you noticed but we are teenagers. We get to act all moody and uncooperative. It's in the law," Harry deadpanned. "Jokes aside, this interview is to give a general overview of what we accomplished in this tournament. It can add credibility to your possible future Quidditch careers but that's just a bonus."

That seemed to ease their minds a bit. Harry wanted to help more but he had no idea what he could say so instead, he stood in silence with his team plus the other three champions and Hermione, each lost in their own world.

He really was proud of how well this tournament had gone. The money they raised was staggering, the comments from the public were great and everyone from all three schools enjoyed the matches, especially the one between Viktor and him. He hadn't told anyone yet but the day after that particular match, he received letters of interest from three league teams and British National team. The league teams enquired about his career plans and to make sure he knew he could train with them until he was ready to go professional at seventeen. The British National Team's manager wanted to prepare Harry for his role as the star of the team for when he would play in '98 World Cup.

Harry had been shocked to inaction and had hidden the letters for future consideration. _I need to talk to Hermione about it soon. And Dumbledore. And Sirius._ Still, he knew he wanted to accept at least the national team's offer if not the others. He could imagine himself wearing the red and white uniform as he caught the snitch and won the World Cup.

A gentle jab to his left side brought him out of his musings. "Gwenog Jones and her teammates," Hermione whispered, nodding her head towards where the women in dark green robes were making their way towards them.

Harry stepped in front of his group to welcome the guests. "Miss Jones, welcome."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

After the introductions, everyone settled on the table, Harry at the centre with Hermione on one side and Jones on another. Next to Hermione was Viktor and the rest of Harry's team while Cedric, Fleur and the rest of the Harpies sat on the other side of Jones.

"I must say, you impressed me in your last game, kiddo," Jones commented with a grin. "You have an eye for tactics."

"I have a good team," Harry answered with a shrug before grinning. "But yeah, I rule. Scared yet?"

Jones rewarded him with a booming laughter. "Don't go letting a win go to your head, boy," she said, her smile softening the sting. "Your team has a lot of potentials but that's all there is. Potential. We are professionals; you have much to learn before you can win against us."

 _Oh, I know but I can't very well give up, now, can I?_ "What did you think of my players?" he asked, knowing his teammates were listening.

The muscular woman leaned back and cast her eyes skyward in thought. "Your beaters have potential to become starting players for a mid-rank team. They aren't flexible enough for complex tactics but they have excellent chemistry. Your keeper is disjointed; he can save the difficult shots but fumble against the easiest ones as well. The red-head girl, Weasel or something. She is good. If she can build on her talents, she can become a star. The black girl is okay. She has a good command of the field and can read the game well. The blonde is a good team player. She won't make any waves but if she can get better, she might become a rotation player."

"That was... detailed but yeah, a good description of my team, I guess," Harry said with a hesitant nod.

"What about Harry?" Hermione butted in from next to him, leaning over the table to see the famous player.

"Oh, he'll be a star alright. From what I hear, he had already proven his skills as a seeker in the first two games but the last match... Teams will be lining up to sign you," she told Harry with a grin before turning serious. "Speaking of, I know Nathaniel wrote to you about getting you ready for the next World Cup. I will be the captain during that tournament. I suggest you take him up on his offer. You'll need it."

Harry felt more than saw Hermione sit up in surprise.

"Thanks for that," Harry mumbled to the grinning woman before he turned to Hermione. "I was going to tell you tomorrow. I want to finish this tournament so I can consider my options," he told her. "Three league teams offered to train me as well."

"That's great, Harry," Hermione cheered. "How would that work with school?"

Harry smiled and winked. "That's something to think about tomorrow. Today, I have an all-women team to defeat." Jones chuckled as he turned to face the reporters watching the exchange in interest. "Shall we begin?" he asked and the reporters made all made a noise of assent. "As you are all aware, today is the final game where we will defeat Holyhead Harpies."

"That's a bold claim. Do you really think your team can beat a professional team; a team that is second place in the standings at the moment?" asked a man from the crowd.

Harry smiled and pretended to think. "To be honest, no, I don't think we will win this match but I know I will do my best to surprise everyone. But I can safely say we will give them a hard time."

"Miss Jones, what are your expectations for the upcoming game?"

Jones sniffed and screwed up her face before she answered. "Well, these are talented kids and I'm sure they will surprise us but this isn't a professional match and we are not here as professionals. We are here to enjoy ourselves and give the fans a good show. To enjoy the game we all love so much."

 _Damn, that's a good answer. I wish I had come up with that._

"What about the charity? In your last interview, you mentioned you had raised sixty thousand galleons if I remember right."

Harry's lips curved up into a self-satisfied smile and his nose raised a fraction. "We have raised over a hundred and ten thousand galleons without counting today's proceedings. I'd say we've done well."

A murmur of surprise came from the group of reporters and everyone else except Hermione. "A hundred and ten thousand galleons? That's... a lot of money. You had briefly mentioned where that money would go. Can you give us the specifics?"

"I would but that's Hermione's department. She deals with the important stuff. I just play Quidditch and look pretty," Harry answered with a winning smile, an imitation of Lockhart at his finest.

The reporters turned to Hermione like a pack of lions who saw a lonely gazelle making her go red. "Ehm. St. Mungo's will receive eighty-five thousand galleons. We had decided to divide the rest of the money between three schools but if today goes as well as the tournament has gone so far, we may find a third option to donate."

"What about the Werewolf Relief Fund?"

Hermione answered calmer now that her first answer didn't raise a riot. "We have reached an agreement with the Chief of St. Mungo's. Instead of starting a new program for werewolves from scratch, they will supply wolfsbane potion at a reduced price. The ministry is unwilling to join such an undertaking with at this time but they agreed to pay the difference if the program succeeds."

"We, that is Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, Chief Healer Abbott and I, are also reaching out to greenhouses, local and foreign, to see if we could find a way to grow some of the expensive ingredients cheaper so the fiscal burden on the government can be mitigated somewhat," Harry added before the reporters could ask another question. "We haven't found a cost-effective option yet but we remain hopeful."

"Mr. Krum, what are your thoughts on your game against Mr. Potter's team?"

"They played smart; they played well. They deserved to win," the Bulgarian answered succinctly. "If only they had a good seeker," he added with a small smile.

"And I thought we were friends, you- you bad person," Harry joked.

"What about you, Mr. Potter?" asked a reporter once the chuckles stopped.

"Quidditch is a team sport and we played like a team. We played to our strengths. We knew before even the game started that I would have a hard time against Viktor, so we focused on stretching the game and playing the quaffle," Harry answered after a moment.

"Your tactics made a big difference. How much of your success, would you say, was yours personally?"

Harry tilted his head in thought. "Six of eight players of my team have been training together for the last four years. We know each other. We trust each other. When one of us has an idea, the others listen. Our last game was a prime example of that trust. I'd say I deserve as much as the next member."

"Okay, now that's a lie," Angelina disagreed. "It was Harry who called the tactics and it was his tactics that almost won us the game even though we failed to catch the snitch."

"It was Ron who guessed Viktor's change of tactics," Harry pointed out. "It doesn't matter. Next time, someone else may come up with the winning strategy."

"Due to an injury, you had to substitute one of your chasers, Katie Bell, with a new player who exceeded all expectations. Who will play today?"

Harry grinned cheekily. "Now, why would I give away such an important secret? We will need every help we can get and who knows? My decision may surprise you all." He glanced at the star player next to him. "Sweating yet, Jones?"

Gwenog Jones chuckled. "I like you, kid. You have a vivid imagination."

"Mr. Diggory, Miss Delacour, your teams share the third place. Are you content about not _technically_ being in the last place? Or are you upset?"

Cedric and Fleur looked at each other before Cedric waved his hand for Fleur to answer first. "We deserved ze zird place. So did zey."

"Fleur explained it perfectly. I think it ended up being the best. This tournament was about enjoying ourselves while making money for a good cause. Not about winning or losing. It's nice that no one lost."

"Mr. Diggory, in the match against you, Mr. Potter caught the snitch within two minutes, becoming the player to catch the snitch fastest in the last century."

Cedric hesitated for a moment, giving Harry a side-eyed glance. "Is there a question?" he asked to get a moment to think.

"What are your thoughts about that?" the reporter asked between his teeth.

"It was the first time I didn't have to shower after a game," he answered after a long moment of thought. "I don't know how I feel. I feel bad that I lost but I was also amazed at the skill Harry showed," he added when the reporter stared at him pointedly.

The reporter gave up on getting a rise out of Cedric and turned to Harry. "What about you, Mr. Potter? You frequently mentioned this tournament is about charity, not winning; yet you showed a ruthless focus in that game. Why?"

"It wasn't one of my best moments, to be honest. I was having a bad day and I guess I wanted to prove something to myself," he answered with a shrug. "It was unnecessary and unprofessional. Then again, I am a teenager. It is expected of me to have mood swings. I read that in a book, you know."

The reporter glared at Harry but didn't pursue the line of question. Another one decided to take a shot at Harry. "There are rumours you hired a... prostitute to be your date for the Yule Ball tonight."

Harry chuckled at the vulture. "There is a grain of truth and a funny story behind that rumour. I have no idea how that _reporter_ , and I use that title in the loosest sense, heard what she heard but it was all a misunderstanding. Don't get me wrong, money did change hands but it didn't go to a prostitute."

"Then who did it go to?"

Harry smiled with no mirth. "You'll just have to wait and see. And I can't wait to see your face when you and Skeeter realise your mistake."

There was an awkward silence following Harry's statement and Harry took advantage of it. "How about one last question before we put an end to my agony?"

That earned him chuckles. _Yay! I made them chuckle. Vultures._

"This is for all of the champions. What do you think your chances are for winning the Triwizard Tournament?"

 _See, now that's a good question._

The champions all glanced at each other and decided to let the lady answer first. "Ze uzzer champions proved zemselves talented and capable, but I will win," the gorgeous blonde answered with her nose in the air, her haughty self coming out to play.

Krum went next. "I vill vin."

 _Now, that answer was confusing. What did he mean? It's all so confusing!_

Harry waved Cedric to go first. "I agree with Fleur. We all proved ourselves and I guess we all have a chance of winning the tournament. I will do my best and we'll see what happens."

Harry felt every eye on him and felt the need to climb the table and shout his desire to win. He restrained himself. _I guess I'm growing up._ He scratched his chin in thought. In all honesty, since the day the idea for the Quidditch tournament had born, he didn't give a moment's thought at the _other_ tournament. _Can I win?_ "I guess there is a possibility I might win. To be honest, I have no idea. Like I said when my name came out of Goblet of Fire; I didn't put my name in, I didn't want to compete. This year was supposed to be a calm year after last year's fiasco but... Like they say; no rest for the wicked. I am a talented and resourceful wizard. I do my best work when I'm under stress and my ass is on the line, so I might surprise everyone and win." He shook his head and chuckled. "I'm rooting for Cedric. I will put in a token effort but I have no desire to win so a Hogwarts victory is the next best thing."

"You said you didn't want to compete, that you didn't put your name in the goblet. Then how do you think your name came out of it?"

Harry scratched the back of his head in irritation. Not at the reporters but at himself. _How could I forget there is a plot against me?_ "I'm clueless. Mad-eye Moody is of the opinion it could be someone who wants to harm me." He grinned at the sceptical looks on the reporters' faces. "I'm more inclined to believe someone wanted me to humiliate myself in a tournament designed for older students. A cruel prank of a sick mind, maybe? I don't know. I know I'm looking forward to the end of Triwizard tournament so I can go back to being just another student."

That last sentence earned him looks of disbelief that lit a fire under his irritation.

"Everyone praises me for what happened that Halloween thirteen years ago. No one asked me about it though. You all put me on this pedestal and treat me like I'm supposed to be different from the rest of you; like I'm supposed to go around casting ancient spells or some such. Allow me to correct your misconceptions, I am a talented wizard who likes to play Quidditch and laze around, not a young Dumbledore or a young Voldemort. You all celebrate me for what happened that day. Let me tell you what happened. I lost my parents. It was, without a doubt, the worst day of my life. And I get that it represents something else to you and you have every right to celebrate the day you were freed from a nightmare. But don't go celebrating _me_ for it."

Harry sniffed, cursing his eyes for leaking and burning. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand and couldn't help but smile before he blinked back the tears and shrugged. "I was so shocked when I first stepped foot into the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone knew my name. I was famous and I had no idea why. When I found out, I hated my fame. I still do. Don't go thinking I have anything to prove. I didn't want to be in this tournament. I'm not going to do more than make a token effort. I'm sorry if that disappoints you because it's not newsworthy."

He stood up and left, unwilling to suffer the stares any longer with the state he's in. The boy with the lightning bolt scar hurried towards the lake, his unblemished partner following at his heels.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked after they spent ten minutes gazing out at the lake.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry answered, his voice hoarse.

Hermione's response was lost when another voice yelled, "Harry!"

Harry turned around in surprise and saw a small missile heading his way. He had barely gotten to his knees when the dark-haired missile hit him and sent him tumbling back to the snow. "Someone is excited," he commented from where he lay sprawled.

"She's off her medication for the day," a male voice belonging to a tall man with dark-brown hair and chiselled face explained.

"Good to see you, Jack. And it's wonderful to see you, little miss sunshine."

"Hogwarts is awesome! We rode horseless carriages and the stairs were moving and..."

Harry smiled and hugged the girl close as she babbled about her exciting day, looking up to see Hermione and Jack talking in soft voices and smiling at the duo.

"... the giant-man is sooooo sweet. He gave me chocolate. I saved you some. Daddy, give Harry his chocolate."

The dark-haired boy chuckled as he rose to his feet with a fifty pounds hanging onto his neck. "How about we fly instead?"

"Yes! Can I, daddy? Can I please?" the sick girl pleaded with wide eyes.

Jack sighed and nodded before looking Harry in the eye. "Please, be careful."

Harry nodded and shifted the cute girl around so she was sitting on his shoulder before running wildly towards the changing rooms to get his broom. He spent the next half hour flying with Wendy and enjoying her joyful laughter and sparkling eyes. He didn't want to but he had to land at the end of the half-hour as the game was about to start in fifteen minutes.

He entered the locker room to be bombarded by cooing sounds as his teammates teased him about his latest tour with his broom. He ignored them, blushing moderately.

"Listen up, you insufferable bastards," he began as he walked out of a changing stall. "We all know we probably won't win this game but that's not an excuse not to do your best. You are Gryffindors; you can't give anything but your best." He smiled at the serious faces around him before turning serious again. "Alicia, if it's okay with you, I want Ginny to take your place for this game." Alicia pouted but nodded her acceptance while Ginny looked at him in shock. "Good. Angelina, I want you to stay mid-field while we attack. Your primary role today is defence. I want you to stick close to Luasaigh. She's their best flier and best setter. If we lock her down, we just might throw their game off."

He turned to his other two starting chasers. "Ginny, Katie, you are fast fliers. Don't mark opposing chasers. Focus on intercepting passes. While we attack, use your speed to the fullest instead of playing our usual hot-potato game. I'm not saying play selfish but pass only when it's more advantageous. They have a high interception rate and we don't want to get caught in that trap."

"Fred, George, I want one of you to stay close to Ron and attack anyone who gets close to the scoring area. Make sure they don't get a clean shot. The other will act as a free agent." He glanced at Ron. "I've got nothing for you, mate. They play high-scoring game without any preferences so you'll have to do your best."

"I will stay low and help out when I see an opportunity. Shock and awe, you know? I will change tactics often to keep them on their toes and hope it will mess with their head."

"What about Jones? She's an excellent beater," Alicia asked.

"I know and there is not much we can do about her." He glanced at the twins. "No offence but neither of you can match her and I don't want to waste one of you on a losing strategy." He turned back to Alicia. "Al, I want you to keep a close eye on the game and observe their patterns. I will try to fly by you to get updates and we'll see if we can figure out a weakness we can exploit."

Alicia sat straighter and nodded.

"Good. We will go out there and we will show everyone why they should turn around and smile at us when we meow."

"... and here come the Potter's Pixies with a surprise in their line up. Beaters; Fred and George Weasley. Keeper; Ronald Weasley. Chasers; Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Ginny Weasley. And their captain and star seeker; Harry Potter!"

As he flew up, Harry looked around the stadium filled with people. _It's magnificent._ And it was. People from all walks of life were there, including a dozen goblins, and all were cheering. It didn't matter whether they cheered him or not. They cheered and loved the game he loved. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter felt connected; he belonged.

He drew a lazy circle around the mid-field, waving at Wendy as he passed her by. His circle went slower and slower until he met Jones in the middle to shake her hand. "Good luck, kid."

"Thanks. You are going to need it." She looked puzzled so he explained, "You know, if I'm lucky, I'll put up a challenge... Oh, never mind. Have fun."

The game started out mildly, each team playing soft and having fun. That changed quickly as the Harpies gained momentum, scoring goals one after another. In fifteen minutes, the point difference reached forty and Harry didn't even get a chance to touch any balls because of the chaos of the game. He decided to see if Alicia had found the reason his team started out so bad.

"It's Ginny and Ron. After he let in the first shot, Ron just fell apart without a fight. And Ginny freaks out whenever Jones is anywhere near her. They have to get it together if we want to win this game."

Harry screwed up his face in thought. It was too early in the game to call a timeout and he wasn't sure what he could do while he was still in the air. _Fuck it. I'll improvise._ "Anything else? Anything on the other team?"

"Jones' right shoulder must be injured. She's only using her left hand and always backhands the ball. The driver passes the ball as soon as Angelina gets close to her. You need to figure out a way to shot her down or you'll just be losing Angelina for no reason. Their keeper favours her right side so flies closer to the left ring."

Harry sighed as Harpies scored another goal, bringing the score to seventy to twenty. _Fuck it._ He flew mid-field as soon as Ron passed the ball to Angelina who passed to Ginny in mid-field. Ginny fumbled the ball but Harry was there to catch it and sloth-roll around a sneaky bludger sent by a grinning Jones. As he came out of the roll, he allowed himself a second to process where his teammates where before sending the quaffle flying, using the momentum of the roll to his advantage. Katie caught the ball with a light hand near the scoring zone and faked right before scoring through the left ring.

As his team flew back to defend against the coming tide, Harry closed the distance with Ginny but before he could say anything, Ginny spoke. "I know. I suck!"

"You are putting your elbow in your dish," Harry said. When Ginny looked at him uncomprehendingly, he explained," You are getting in your own way. Sit out this defence and take a minute. Use it on breathing exercises to calm yourself. If you could get over your crush on me and become my friend, you can get over your crush on Gwenog Jones as well."

Before Ginny could say anything, the opposing keeper started the game again. "Go," Harry ordered and pointed to where Alicia was sitting. "Talk to Al. She'll calm you down nice and easy."

Ginny hesitated for a moment but did as Harry ordered while Harry caught Katie's eyes and ordered her to stay to Angelina's top right. He did the opposite, going low left. Luasaigh saw Katie's shadow and chose to pass the ball to the woman on Harry's side. It wasn't hard for Harry to intercept the ball as he knew where it would go but he didn't expect the same sneaky bludger sent by the same sneaky beater. It hit his left shoulder at full speed, causing Harry to whirl around.

 _It's okay. Pain is your friend. It tells you when something is wrong. Accept it, experience it. Don't fight it._

He shook his head and gained control of his broom before zipping forward. He saw Katie to his left and passed the ball to her before cross-flying the field. Katie passed back to Angelina who sent a long pass to where he was headed.

The pain on his left shoulder increased as he had to use his left arm to catch the ball but he ignored it still and rolled around his broom's axis to gain enough momentum to shot the ball with his injured shoulder. He aimed left hoop but scored through the middle one, chuckling to himself as he flushed.

He called a time-out as soon as the ball crossed the iron circle and sped to the ground, calling Madam Pomfrey. His teammates landed around him, including Ginny. He didn't give them a chance to talk. "Ginny, are you better?" The red-head nodded to convince herself more than to convince him. "Good. If you feel like you'll freak out again, take a minute to relax. This is just a game. No need to be nervous, okay?" He turned to Ron as Pomfrey cast a charm at his shoulder. "I told you this before, Ron. Don't try to outthink your opponent. Wait for the ball to leave their hands before you fly. Trust your instincts." He pointed a finger at the twins. "Whoever is not protecting the hoops. I want you to stay to Jones' left. Her right arm or shoulder is injured so she always hits towards left. Intercept her balls, or at least make it harder for her to shot accurately. He turned around to find Katie and Ginny and found them standing far away from each other, Ron and Angelina in between them. He ignored Pomfrey's irritated huff and dragged Ginny to Katie's side before speaking. "Ginny, I want you to crowd the driver from a different side each time they attack. Katie will play to intercept. I will low-cross the field while Angelina, you will fly straight as soon as we have the ball."

"After fifteen minutes, we will switch things around to improvisation. I want to stay unpredictable. They are professionals. We don't need to assist them by repeating the same play over and over again. We'll try our luck at freestyle for a while but when I give the signal, Angelina will fall back again and," he pointed at the other two chasers,"You two will early press them into making mistakes. Shock and awe will be the name of the game. We'll see what happens after that."

He thanked Pomfrey when she numbed his shoulder before leaving them. He looked at his teammates to see none of the faces showed an ounce of pleasant emotions. "This is a game, people. We are not here for a potions class. We are here to play the game we all love. Stop taking it so seriously. Enjoy yourselves. We might lose but let us, at least, enjoy our loss, okay?" His teammates gave him unsure nods. He didn't like that. "Oh, for fuck's sake, stop looking like Dumbledore just told you Snape is your real father." That earned a few disgusted moans and a few chuckles. "Take deep breaths and enjoy making a memory to tell your grandchildren when you are all white and wrinkly, while I stay young and sexy."

He smiled when his teammates laughed. "Good. Go on, then," he shooed them away but stayed behind a moment longer to test his left shoulder. Shit! Still a _little stiff. Oh, well._

He got back on his broom and zipped up above the quaffle play height. He heard the swoosh of another broom and glanced to his right to see the blonde seeker of the Harpies. "You doing okay, kid?" she asked and pointed her head towards Harry's shoulder.

"Lucky for you, not a hundred percent," he said with a grin. "I played and won 'single-handedly' before," he told her with a wink.

She laughed at him or with him, Harry didn't care. "You are a cocky little fucker, aren't you?"

"Lady, I'm fourteen. You shouldn't be saying words with 'cock' in it."

"Don't be a smartarse, Potter. I was your age once; I know what goes around in a teenager's head."

"You still remember your teenage years? Merlin, you must have one hell of a memory." He grinned before adding, "Speaking of Merlin, what was he like? Did you ever... you know, find yourself alone in a broom closet with him?"

"Wow," she exclaimed. "I was never called old before, and never have been insulted so disjointedly. I recant my earlier statement. I have no idea what goes on in your head."

"Oh, trust me," Harry said as he watched Katie get into position. "You wouldn't believe the things I come up with."

He streaked forward towards the far end of the field and caught the ball Katie sent her way. He didn't keep it long before passing it to an unmarked Angelina who scored easily. _Forty points left._

His tactics worked, sort of. Throughout the next hour, they kept switching tactics and executing them, but they never gained the upper hand. Whenever they evened the score, the Harpies upped their game and reclaimed their lead. Thankfully, his teammates started to enjoy themselves and the game gained some energy with both sides competing.

 _Well, at least they are not obvious about it,_ Harry thought when he realised their opponents were playing with them, not against them. They kept playing just a touch better than the Pixies, giving the impression the game was a cliffhanger. _Come to think of it, it's like they are pushing us to play better; testing our limits._

That brought up one concern though. He knew Jones wouldn't accept a defeat. Never. She just wasn't the type to lose as a courtesy. _Which means I will be tested as well, to see if how good a seeker I am._ It took Harry five minutes of contemplation to figure it out, all the while he continued to play. _She's risking the game to see how I will get ready for the next World Cup._

 _It's all just to test me. She knows I will push extra hard if there is a chance I can win so she keeps the scores close enough. Holy shit! That's what I call a sophisticated plan._

He wondered why he was okay with an opponent playing games with him and realised he didn't care. He knew he couldn't win against the Harpies, not at this time, and he enjoyed himself far too much to care for his slightly bruised ego and humbled soul.

He dived to the ground as he refocused on the game, the blonde friend of Merlin right at his tail. He waved around the chasers, disrupting the opposition attack and causing the quaffle to hit the ground in the excitement. Instead of slowing when he passed the lowest player, he turned his broom parallel to the ground and sped off, catching the ball thrown by Angelina at the other end of the field and scoring a fast one while dodging the keeper. He stopped as soon as he passed the goal posts and turned around to watch as the blonde seeker had trouble manoeuvring around the panicked keeper.

 _Yeah, Jones,_ Harry thought as he saw Jones watch him, _I'm that good._

He smiled victoriously as he glanced at the scoreboard to see the scores even for the first time since the game started. _It feels good even if I know they aren't playing their best on purpose._

Harry flew up to where Jones was drawing lazy circles with one of the twins keeping near her. "I know what you are doing." Jones just smiled at him innocently. "Did you like my last show?"

"It was not so bad," she answered with a grin.

"Not so bad?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "I almost managed to fell your seeker and keeper at the same time I scored. That's what people call a great play."

"The key word is almost. Almost great play," she half-agreed. "If you had kept a little longer, you would've done it too."

"I was far too close to the keeper's line. It would've cost me a penalty."

She shook her head. "You need to think bigger. Don't just call plays to score a point. Even if it cost you a penalty and we scored, you would even out while the other team would have to deal with two injuries. You might have even gotten the seeker out of the game, effectively ending the game as close as this one."

"Oh, don't pretend it's not close because you want it to be," Harry snapped without any anger. "But you are right. That would've been awesome."

They sat in silence and watched the quaffle game for a few minutes, each resting and enjoying themselves. "Do you know why I agreed to play against the winner of your little tournament?" When Harry shook his head, she answered, "to see what's Krum truly made of. We thought we would play against him. You were a pleasant surprise."

"You would break the no men rule for Viktor?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. We heard rumours Puddlemere was courting Krum. It was a threat assessment, not a try-out." She shook her head to refocus. "Anyway, back to the point. You surprised me in your match against Krum. He is not only more experienced than you, he's also a more talented seeker. Yet, you almost won. You can think on your feet, or on your broom, as the case may be; but you can also see the weak spots and plan accordingly. You used five different successful tactics in this game. That's a high number even for a professional match. If you can start to think more surgically and outside the confines of scoring and defending, you'll be the captain of the national team in eight years."

Harry opened his mouth to thank the woman but a gold sparkle caught his eye and he zoomed away without a thought, starting the first snitch chase of the game. He glanced around to see if the other seeker caught on to what was going on and smiled when he saw her ignorance. Sadly, he didn't get to keep his advantage as he had to manoeuvre out of the Luasaigh's path and causing her to drop the quaffle. The resulting commotion brought the blonde seeker's attention and a moment later he was trying to shake off his tail while he tailed the snitch.

As the chase gained heat, he realised the other seeker failed to gain ground on him and instead, he increased the distance between them, albeit slowly. He didn't get to enjoy this revelation as he was forced to dodge two consecutive bludgers sent by Jones. He dodged the first one easily but the second one missed his ear by less than a centimetre.

He refocused on the snitch as he pushed down the irritation at not only losing advantage but falling behind the other seeker. He did catch up to her without much of a problem but she ended up on his left and a single shoulder from the woman caused his shoulder pain to flare up and make him lose balance.

He didn't get a chance to recover from that as the blonde seeker, now unchallenged, caught the snitch moments after he regained control of his whirling broom.

He landed on the ground with a small smile, not letting the loss take away from how much he enjoyed the game. His team landed around him with pouts and his smile got bigger. "Oh, stop moping, you morons. We played great. Yes, we lost but we gave it everything we got and you can be sure none of the other teams could play as well as we did. So, wear this loss proudly."

"And walk away from this stadium with your head held high."


	12. To New Challenges

_Life is too fucking good sometimes,_ Harry thought as he sat with the softest towel he had ever used wrapped around him. A courtesy of the latest and second member of the House of Potter. _I need to do something nice for Dobby and Winky._

Since the day Winky became a part of his daily life, Harry found out why Lucius Malfoy had lost all semblance of control when Harry freed Dobby. The comfort of knowing Winky was always there to help his needs was a privilege he promised himself he wouldn't take for granted ever. The female elf was everywhere; making Harry's meals, cleaning his clothes and altering them one by one to better fit him, reminding Harry of his schedule.

The boy was sure she was doing other subtle things he couldn't name at that moment, with this bliss making his brain all warm and fuzzy.

His bliss wasn't only because of a warm bath and soft towels. Even though he was tired, he stood straighter, with no conscious effort, like a weight lifted off his shoulders. _I know, a cliche but true nonetheless._

He had never had more fun than during the tournament that ended forty-five minutes ago, but he couldn't deny it had been stressful. Now, with the tournament a resounding success, all he had to do was sit back and enjoy a lovely evening with two delightful ladies.

 _That_ was another reason for his bliss; he had a sort-of date with his partner and a playdate with a cute girl who brightened a room when she smiled. _What more could a guy want?_

Harry moaned in pleasure as he stood, his muscles stretching and aching just right after a hot shower. He dressed in lazy moves, wanting to enjoy the moment as much as he could. _To smell the roses, so to speak._

Even with his lazy mood, it took him no time to get dressed and trek the snow-covered grounds, the cold winds of winter shocking his system into alertness. He cursed himself for not casting a warming charm on his cloak but still didn't cast it, even the bite of cold feeling good against his skin.

He smiled at passing people as he climbed the moving stairs of the school. His home's magic pulsed against his skin, congratulating him for making it proud and causing Harry to fall in love with it all the more. He navigated through the trip steps, tricky corridors and a whacky poltergeist without batting an eye before entering the common room to find it filled only with boys.

It took him a few, confused and scared, moments to figure out the reason for it. He had heard his uncle complain about his aunt enough to know it took women longer to get ready. _What with the makeup and all._

He wondered briefly whether Hermione would take part in all that girly stuff and whether she found a date, and he found himself not caring. _She's most beautiful when she's in the library, researching with that unholy gleam of thirst in her eyes. And she's mine._

He shrugged at the sausage fest in the common room and whistled a happy tune as he walked past the crowd and into his dorm room. Dean and Neville welcomed him with enthusiastic hellos before turning their attention back to their grooming.

Harry found it odd and funny to watch these smelly boys put such care in their appearance so he sat back on an armchair to have fun at their expense. An hour later, Harry left the room with a grin and two flaming cheeks on his face, a result of the revenge mock his friends threw his way.

He considered his options and chose to walk down to the entrance hall to meet his date instead of waiting for Hermione to come down. _Today is Wendy's day, Hermione can have me tomorrow and after._

His step faltered for a moment as he considered how unlike him that thought was. _Since when I am arrogant and confident?_

That question brought his contemplation to another level as he considered how different he felt compared to five weeks ago. He was more confident, there was no doubt about that, and the reason was obvious. The fourteen-year-old boy had just organised the biggest charity event that spread over four days and hosted high ministry officials from five different countries. And he won! Well, he won the students-only part of the tournament.

 _Still, that's something when you remember Viktor fucking Krum was a part of it._

He also felt at peace, no longer so wrung up in public and no longer ready to blow up in anger like he used to feel.

With a brighter smile than anyone ever saw on his face, he walked past the entrance hall and excited to the courtyard, layered with environmental charms for the night. He found his date and her father easily enough, lifting Wendy in the air when the girl ran to her and giving a respectful nod to Jack. "You look beautiful, little girl."

"You don't look bad yourself, big guy," the bright-eyed girl answered with a grin that made her seem far older than she was. "That game was awesome!"

"But I lost," Harry complained, sniffing and pouting.

"You'll win next time," the girl consoled with so much conviction, Harry had to laugh at the cuteness she was exuding.

They talked and joked for half an hour until Harry felt Wendy shiver in his arms, pretending not the notice the dampness of Jack's eyes throughout the conversation. "Are you cold, honey? Do you want to go inside?"

"No! I want to see the stars!"

Harry shifted the girl, so she was at his eye level. "How about we get warm? We'll come out after we have some nice food in our stomachs and enjoy the starry night."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

The black-haired girl gave a wide grin before struggling in Harry's arms for him to let her down and running off towards the castle.

"I hope you realise she played you?" Jack asked with a mocking smile as two men hurried after the girl, who was hyperactive for once in her life. "Don't let her cute little girl act fool you. She's smart. Smarter than me in any case."

"I don't doubt that for one second," Harry quipped before turning somewhat serious. "I know she did but she deserves to be spoilt for a night."

The older man put a hand on Harry's shoulder to stop the boy and looked him in the eye. "I hope you know how much I appreciate all you've done and are doing for my girl, Harry. You gave her joy and hope for the first time in a long time, something I failed to do. And I will do my best to pay you back for the rest of my life."

Harry, even with his newfound confidence, felt awkward at the gratitude in the man's penetrating gaze and shifted from foot to foot. "It was nothing. Just doing what anyone would have done."

"No," the man disagreed vehemently and put a finger on Harry's chest. "You've done what no one has done. Don't blow off what you did."

Harry flushed and nodded, accepting the man's words. "She deserves it."

And that was that. They didn't discuss the issue anymore and Harry was grateful for it. It was one thing for the Weasleys to thank him for saving Ginny. He had put his life in danger for her, had almost died.

For Wendy, all he did was give money, money he couldn't find a better use for. While he understood the man's gratitude, he felt the amount of it was unnecessary.

Still, I won't begrudge the man how happy he is for her daughter's sake.

They entered the entrance hall to find Wendy talking animatedly with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall and telling them how she would be the best student Hogwarts ever had. Pomfrey had a melancholic smile on her face like she didn't believe it would happen. McGonagall just looked excited as a ten-year-old discussed transfiguration techniques even Harry would have trouble talking about with such an understanding.

"She loves to read. There is not much she can do to spend time in the hospital," said Jack in the way of explanation, his voice thick with fondness.

"Great, another Hermione" Harry groaned jokingly, making the man chuckle.

"Speaking of, why aren't you going to the ball with her?"

Harry grinned at the man. "We had a little misunderstanding before I came to the hospital. Our lines got crossed."

The brunette man raised an eyebrow. "Does your misunderstanding have anything to do with why the Prophet thinks my daughter is a prostitute?"

"That was another misunderstanding all together," Harry said with a grin.

"I think you two need to learn to communicate better, boy."

Harry nodded, "We are normally so in-synch, it's scary. But these last few weeks have been hard on us."

The man smiled at Harry. "Hormones does that to ya. Make everything all confusing and complicated."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's mock the teenager for being a teenager," Harry complained good-naturedly before stepping forward to join the three ladies discussing why transfiguration could be useful in medicine.

"But think about it," Wendy insisted excitedly. "Magic can't heal every injury. Let's say you have to fix someone's heart but there isn't a potion for it. You have to cut open the patient and cast a spell directly at his heart. Instead of worrying about vanishing the rib cage and manoeuvring around the lungs and limiting your wand movements, you can transfigure the body parts smaller. It would give you easier access and you wouldn't have to worry about regrowing the bones. You always have to wait until the patient is almost fully healed before you can give them skele-grow. I know it isn't a priority concern in most cases but the rib cage protects the lungs and the heart. It's a win-win situation."

Pomfrey looked at the girl with an expression between surprise, fondness and exasperation. It was McGonagall who responded, though, "It's certainly a good idea but partial transfiguration is an imprecise branch. Not to mention you are talking about transfiguring complex living tissue."

"I think it's doable," the little girl huffed, folded her arms and stuck out her tongue.

"How about you conduct research and trials once you finish your healer training and get your masteries in transfiguration and arithmancy?" Harry asked as he put a hand on the excited girl's shoulder.

The glint in Wendy's eyes scared Harry a little, but he didn't show it as she nodded and pointed at McGonagall. "I will. I'll prove it is doable."

"And I will be the first to congratulate you when you do," McGonagall said with a proud smile before she turned her attention on Harry. She gave a small nod at his attire. "Acceptable. Are you ready for the ball, Mr. Potter? It was your brilliant idea to invite the press and the public. I hope you realise they will watch your every move."

"First of, acceptable? Really? I look hot as hell," Harry said before he opened his arms wide and whirled around, showing the goods. "And second, yes, as you no doubt expected, I'm regretting that decision."

McGonagall, in a move so unlike her, rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine."

"Do you, perchance, know today's numbers? How many tickets sold, money made and all that?"

The stern professor responded after only a second of thought. "Over eighteen thousand tickets were sold but I don't know about the finances. You must speak to Headmaster Dumbledore or Miss Granger."

Harry's eyes widened at the number and he hurried to calculate the money ticket sales brought in.

"Twenty-one thousand one hundred and seventy-six galleons," Wendy told him in a very Hermione-like manner.

"Bloody hell," Harry exclaimed as Jack whistled at the number.

"Language, Mr. Potter!" McGonagall warned but with a touch of amusement.

That brings us to a hundred and thirty thousand without the money from the concessions. That means we have to find another place to donate the money to.

A gentle jab to his left by the little girl next to him derailed his frantic thought process. When Harry looked down at the girl, she pointed to the stairs. Harry turned his eyes towards where his date was pointing, wondering if it had anything to do with why everyone in the hall went silent.

Harry's mind copied the hall's silence the moment he laid eyes on Hermione. She looked utterly gorgeous in a blue gown that hugged her hips, giving Harry a glimpse of her leg with a slit down its side. Her face held none of the stress and tiredness of her daily life and her hair was sleek and shiny, forming a knot at the back of her head.

She looks utterly gorgeous.

Harry walked towards her in a daze, not even aware his feet were moving. "You look utterly gorgeous."

She blushed cutely and smiled brightly, and when she spoke, her voice was but a breathy whisper. "Thank you, Harry. You look dashing as well."

Harry gulped down and shook his head to restart his thought process before grinning cockily. "I know. You are lucky to have me."

Hermione giggled at his joke as Harry held out his arm for her to take and lead her to where Wendy and her father was standing with Madam Pomfrey. "You look beautiful, Wendy," the brown-haired girl commented as she lowered herself to the girl's eye level. "I understand why Harry chose you over me for his date."

"I know," Wendy answered with a raised nose and a roll of her eyes before pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "So I suggest you back off."

Harry's eyes bugged out for a moment before he realised the little girl was having Hermione on, then he had to work on keeping a straight face. Hermione was dumbstruck and speechless, looking at the smaller girl with wide eyes.

"I know what you are doing with this," she pointed at Hermione's attire and makeup, "thing. You want to seduce steal my Harry."

Hermione tried her luck speaking, but didn't make much headway as her brain refused to work. "I- But- Harry-"

Wendy raised her hand, her palm looking at the older girl and shook her head disappointedly. "I don't want to hear it. I can't believe you even fell for that. Harry said you were the smartest witch of your age."

It took a few seconds for Hermione's brain to finally kick in and her eyes widened even further as Harry, Jack and Poppy laughed their asses off. "You- would make one hell of an actress."

"I know," the little girl said haughtily and threw her hair to a side before losing her composure and falling victim to a giggling fit.

"Miss Granger," the headmistress cut into Harry's laughter. "Everyone except the champions and their dates needs to find their seats in the great hall."

Hermione nodded and followed orders after giving Harry a good luck kiss, followed by Jack and Poppy. Meanwhile, Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, holding out a hand for Wendy to take. They joined the other champions and their dates in front of the great hall doors as they waited for McGonagall to send them in.

"You will enter by the order of points you received in the first task," McGonagall informed them. "You will take your seats at the head table and after dinner, you will open the dance." She looked right at Harry as she added, "I hope you brushed up on your dancing skills. We have many guests here tonight and I'm sure you want to do your schools proud."

"Don't look at me," Harry said with his arms raised. "I have an excuse for my inability to put two feet next to each other," he said with a grin and pointed his thumb at his nine-year-old date who grinned back gave him thumbs up.

"Smart. Use every advantage you can get and admit nothing," Wendy praised, sounding far older than she is and earning chuckles from the other champions and a small quirk of lips from McGonagall.

"Be that as it may, I expect you, Mr. Potter, to carry yourself with dignity," McGonagall warned after she wrestled control of her facial expression.

Harry patted her chest and pockets as if looking for something before smacking himself on his forehead. "Didn't think I would need it so I must have left it in my dorm," he joked, grinning cheekily.

"I wish you had left your cheek as well," McGonagall murmured before shaking her head. "I give up. Just- Please, don't embarrass us too much."

"Hey, why don't you say the same to Cedric? He's the real Hogwarts champion," Harry complained, milking McGonagall's patience for all its worth and finding the limit if the throbbing vein on her temple was a sign.

It was Wendy who kicked him in the shin and answered, "Just shut up, watch your feet and look pretty."

"My, my. Aren't you a little full of yourself today?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows. "I'm not Hermione, little girl. I don't get flustered so easily."

"We'll see how in control of your faculties you will be when you dance with her in that dress," the girl shot back with a grin.

Merlin, she'll be a handful when she comes to Hogwarts and starts dating. "You may have a point there."

"Anyway," McGonagall cut in before their banter could get out of hand. "Mr. Potter, you and Wendy will go in first, followed by Mr. Krum and his date, Mr. Diggory and Miss Chang, and finally, Miss Delacour and Mr. Davis." She pushed the wooden doors of Great Hall open and waved Harry in.

Harry did so with Wendy's arm in his, with the applause from the crowd accompanying them. He glanced at his date to see her bewildered and flushed and had to hide a smile as he patted her hand to remind her of his presence. The girl rewarded Harry with a shaky smile, her nerves at being the centre of so many people's attention plain on her face for anyone to see. Not that anyone would dare to say a word on the matter.

He saw Percy wave him to the seat next to the redhead but pretended not to notice as he sat next to his headmaster after giving the old man a nod and a smile. "Sir, allow me to introduce Lady Wendy Downes. My lady, this is Headmaster Dumbledore; Chief Twinklelock of Wizengamot; Supreme Oompa Loompa of International Confederation of Old People; Holder of Order of Grandpa's, First Class." The word-plays and the grand tone he used earned him a gentle smile from Dumbledore and giggles from Wendy.

"It's an honour to meet you, Lady Downes," Dumbledore played along as he bowed as deep as he could in his seat, his long beard falling to his water glass, earning another giggle from the girl.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I read a lot about you; about your duel with Grindelwald and your accomplishments in alchemy with Nicholas Flamel," Wendy answered with more than a little hero-worship in her tone.

"We wasted months to dig up that information," Harry grumbled under his breath but was ignored by both.

"You did?" Dumbledore asked Wendy in surprise. "It is rare to meet such a young book enthusiast."

"Just because I can't perform magic, doesn't mean I can't know magic."

That sounds tragically mature, Harry thought as his heart broke at the girl's suffering once again.

"That is a wise philosophy," the already-legend wizard said with sadness and admiration in his eyes. "I hope you can be a good influence on young Harry, here. He could use a little studying," he joked with a whisper, making the girl giggle again and Harry's heart soar at the sound.

Before Harry could rebuke Dumbledore's statement, Karkaroff butted in with a snippy tone from few seats away. "You allow a Muggle to enter this renowned institution, Dumbledore? Oh, how far can Hogwarts fall?"

Harry froze for a moment, not comprehending how someone could say something so awful, before he saw the broken expression and tears in Wendy's face and he flushed in anger. "Sleep with one eye open, Karkaroff," he hissed after he turned to the yellow-toothed bastard with furious eyes and all the venom he could put in his voice.

Karkaroff's look of surprise at being threatened by a student and the suddenness of it didn't last long. "Control your pupil, Dumbledore. He forgets his place."

Before Dumbledore could even open his mouth, Harry shot back, "I think it's you who forgets his place. You are a guest in this school, and while I can't speak for Headmaster Dumbledore, I won't allow you to disrespect my friend or my home," he snapped, his voice raising without his notice.

He ignored the people watching the exchange as he glared at the bastard, hoping against all hope for the man to do something stupid so he could cause him pain. Oh, he knew he couldn't do much against a headmaster of another school. A fourteen-year-old schoolboy had no realistic chance in truly hurting a man with Karkaroff's experience, but he was sure he could land a few painful blows while Dumbledore would protect him.

"Enough foolishness," Dumbledore hissed before Karkaroff could offer a comeback. "Igor, the boy is right. Need I remind you of your discretions during the war and their consequences?"

I'm honest enough to admit, Dumbledore can be one scary man when he wants to be.

Karkaroff looked as if he wanted to complain more but succumbed to Dumbledore's aura of power. "My apologies, young lady. I meant no disrespect."

Wendy sniffed and buried her head in Harry's midsection when the asshole turned to her, making Harry want to hurt the man all the more but a warning glance from Dumbledore put a lid to that idea. At least for the time being. "My apologies, Mr. Karkaroff. I hurt the mood of the table in such a wonderful evening." It wasn't an apology but it was all they would get from Harry and no one wanted to talk further on the subject.

Harry turned his attention to the upset girl hanging on to him with all she had. "It's okay, Wendy. The asshole doesn't know what he's talking about," he whispered soothingly to the girl. "Besides, didn't you see his face? He looks like a rat with a dental hygiene problem. How can you take anything coming from that mouth seriously?"

He felt the girl smile on his stomach but she didn't come out of her shelter so Harry moved his hand on her back in soothing motions. "Winky," he whispered to the air.

Winky arrived with a silent pop, somehow feeling the mood. "What can Winky dos for you, Master Harry?"

"Can you bring the box in my drawer?"

Winky nodded and left with a pop, returning a minute later in the same manner. Harry took the box from the sparkling house-elf and gently pried the cute leech off of his body. "Wendy, I'd like you to meet Winky, my... She's my family," he said with a small smile that got bigger when Winky grinned widely. "Winky, I'd like you to meet Wendy. She's a dear friend of mine."

"Nice's to meet you, little mistress," Winky said and curtsied with her cute yellow dress.

"Nice to meet you too, Winky." Wendy examined the house-elf carefully while trying to act polite for a moment before leaning into Harry and asking, "What is she?"

"Why don't you ask her? You won't be offended, would you, Winky?"

"Winky won't, sir, Winky won't," Winky denied and shook her head vehemently, making her ears flop around and causing an involuntary giggle escape from Wendy's mouth. "Winky bes a house-elf, missy. It be's Winky's job to take care of my family," she informed the little girl before puffing her chest in pride, showing off the Potter coat of arms. "Winky bes Potter family elf."

Wendy looked somewhere between curious and horrified. "Are- Are you a slave?" she asked hesitantly.

"No!" Winky exclaimed and shook her head more forcefully than before, her voice not raising enough to disturb anyone. "Winky bes family. Winky takes care of Master Harry and Master Harry takes care of Winky."

Wendy turned to Harry with questioning eyes, not judgemental but curious so Harry explained, "Winky is a member of my family. She takes care of my daily needs like preparing my food and washing my clothes. It's my job to take care of her and see to her needs if she has any. You are right to have doubts about this type of bond. Some people treat their elves like a slave, hurting them and insulting them. More often, like my bond with Winky, wizards accept elves to their family. Think of her like a mother-figure for poor me," he finished with a wink.

"Your mother is small," Wendy commented with a smile."

"All elves are, compared to humans." Harry glanced around in faux-fear before he leaned in and whispered, "Don't tell Hermione I told you this but she used to knit clothes for house-elves. Giving a house-elf a piece of cloth means you free them. To house-elves with happy homes, it's like kicking them out of their home and family. So, when Hermione did that, Hogwarts elves had refused to clean the Gryffindor tower in protest."

Wendy looked at Winky with wide-eyes for confirmation and giggled when she received it. "That sounds silly."

"I know," Harry agreed with a grin before he turned to Winky. "Thank you for your help, Winky."

Winky hesitated for a moment before taking a piece of parchment out of her pocket and whispering, "Master Harry, sir, Mistress Hermione asks Winky to give this to you."

"Thank you," Harry told her as he took the parchment. He was curious about the contents but his need to make Wendy forget all about the ugliness from earlier won. "I have a gift for you."

"You do?" Wendy asked with excitement and wonder. "Gimme!"

Harry did and watched as the girl tore into the wrapping paper to find a small box the size of a ring box filled with tiny books. She looked up Harry with confused eyes before she understood. "It's a library!"

"Your very own. There are over fifty books in there; Muggle fiction, psychology, human anatomy, charms, transfiguration, potions, runes, arithmancy, magical theory. All you need to do is have your father say the password and it will resize itself to regular size. When you give the password again, it will shrink back to this size."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She jumped on him, hugging him for all she's worth, with tears on her eyes.

"Thank Hermione too. She's the one who came up with the idea. I was going to buy you a doll to play with," Harry said after wiping his face on his sleeve.

Their conversation was cut by Dumbledore who leaned in to get a look at Wendy's gift and nodded appreciatively. "You should order your food before we have to clear the tables for the dance."

Harry and his date looked around in surprise to see everyone eating and both turned to Dumbledore with the same question in their eyes. Dumbledore snickered at the synchronised movements before explaining how they could order food.

Wendy wanted to try French food and Harry followed her lead, curious about foreign cuisine. They enjoyed their food and small banter until the headmaster rose to his feet and invited the champions to open the dance.

Harry offered his hand to his date with a bow and led her to the dance floor before turning around and lifting her up, not having a problem thanks to her smaller than normal stature. He held her to his chest, her hand snaking around his neck and swayed with music when the band started, doing his best to make it as real as possible for the smiling girl.

When the song ended, he bowed with Wendy still on his hands to the applauding crowd before going back to dancing, enjoying the happiness on small girl's face. They danced for a few more songs before Wendy ordered him to dance with Hermione in a stern voice followed by a giggle before she ran off to find her father.

Harry had no problems finding Hermione as he had kept a jealous eye on her from the moment she joined the dance floor on blonde French boy's arms. He walked swiftly and with authority towards her and her partner. "Can I have this next dance?" he asked in a firm but polite voice, giving a small bow to Hermione and ignoring the boy.

Hermione turned to the older boy and spoke with a broken French; the boy answering in his native language as he glared at Harry. The dark-haired teen raised an eyebrow at the French, daring him. His partner whispered at the glaring boy harshly.

"Prostitué!" the boy hissed before he turned around to leave but was stopped by Harry's hand gripping painfully into his shoulder.

"You may want to consider an apology," Harry said, his voice harsh and filled with venom, freezing the boy in his tracks. "I don't take kindly to some asshole insulting my partner."

The affronted boy whirled around and looked down at Harry with contempt, giving Harry the impression he was underestimated once again. "'oo do you zink you are, telling me zat to do, boy?"

Harry took a step forward, shrugging off the restraining hand Hermione put on his shoulder and got into other boy's face, not letting the height difference matter with his mere presence. "Apologise or you'll wake up in the hospital wing in a worse state than Malfoy did when he attacked my partner."

The boy hesitated but didn't budge. "'e was a foolish boy; I am a man." He turned to Hermione who was trying to drag Harry away from the French. "Are you sure you don't wanz a real man to show you zat a good night iz? I azzure you I can perform bezzer than thiz leetle boy."

Hermione's hands left Harry's body as soon as the boy finished, finding his cheek with a firm open hand. The slap vibrated around the hall even with the loudness, drawing the attention of a few bystanders as the boy's head whipped around. "How dare you, you disgusting pig? As if I would lower myself to spending a night with an ugly misogynist."

Harry smirked at the red-faced boy as Hermione dragged him away and winked. "I wasn't defending her," he yelled. He turned around and wrapped an arm around the brunette. "My girl needs no prince charming."

Hermione whirled around and glared Harry's smile away. "You weren't acting like a prince charming just now."

"I wasn't trying to," Harry said with a tilted head. "I wasn't trying to defend your honour either if that's your problem. You can do that fine on your own. I was correcting an asshole who thinks he can come here and insult a girl from this school with no repercussions."

Hermione huffed in her special manner, making it hard for Harry to not smile. "You should have ignored him."

"I could have but ignoring him would make him slobber all over and causing trouble for another girl," Harry answered with a shrug. "You know me, Hermione. I don't like it when people act arrogant and entitled. He needed to be taken down a peg and I was willing."

The brunette girl sighed and leaned into Harry. "This night is supposed to be fun with no fighting and stress. Don't think I didn't saw you with Karkaroff."

"That asshole had the gall to insult both Wendy and Hogwarts," Harry hissed, his anger from then returning. It's not the time for that, Harry. "I may not jump to your defence every time someone insults you but that's because I know you can take care of yourself. No one insults Wendy."

Hermione looked up in repulsed shock. "He didn't! Oh, that- that awful man!"

Harry chuckled as the tension left his body. "I love it when you talk dirty like that."

"Shut up," Hermione huffed, hiding her flushed face back in his chest. "Let's dance," she blurted and dragged Harry to the dance floor.

Dancing with Hermione is decidedly different from dancing with Wendy, Harry decided as he felt every curve of Hermione's body sway with the music. And I love it. While it was harder because of the effort it took to control his body's reaction to Hermione's and his impulse to steal her away to a secluded place, that made it even more fun. Harry thrived when faced with a challenge and he faced this challenge head-on; the challenge to stay a gentleman while his thoughts were not.

Hermione must have read his thoughts as she smirked and ghosted her hand on Harry's abdomen in a sensual manner, making it hard for Harry to breath and making it hard. The emerald-eyed wizard tried to glare at the maddening girl but failed, giving into the temptation her pink lips offered. The kiss was similar to those they shared before yet filled with new sensations, a new desire from both parties.

They parted after what felt like hours and seconds at the same time, panting, their lips swollen and eyes glazed over with lust. Hermione patted Harry on his chest and put a small distance between them. "We should get drinks and some air."

Harry nodded and turned to the drinks table but didn't move towards it. "Would you mind if we bring Wendy with us? Earlier, I promised her we would watch the stars and I don't think I could leave your side tonight."

The disappointment he feared didn't show in Hermione's face, in its place an adoring smile. "Of course," she sniffed dramatically. "I could never have you while she's in your life."

Harry shook his head in faux-sadness. "Oh, I love you, honey. I will leave her for you, I promise. But you know I have to think about the kids first."

Hermione snorted and pushed Harry towards the drinks. "You'd make a horrible cheater."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good for me in any case," Hermione said with a self-satisfied grin. "I'd know the moment you are dishonest with me."

"I'd never lie to you," Harry claimed but amended when Hermione looked at him disbelievingly, "I'd never lie to you about anything important. I might tell a white lie once in a while."

"Don't worry. I know you well enough to not believe you when you say fine."

"It's all relative anyway," Harry said with a careless shrug. "Wine or something age appropriate?"

Hermione looked at him like he was crazy.

"Something age appropriate, it is," Harry said and made to pick a couple of butterbeers, only to be stopped by his partner.

"That wasn't what that look said. Tonight is a special night. We can make a small exception," she said as she picked up two glasses of red wine after she glanced around to ensure no teachers were around. "What? I might make an exception but I don't think they," she nodded towards McGonagall who was glaring at random students like they were about to do something silly, "might not."

Harry shrugged and accepted Hermione's logic and the wine she was holding out for him before he held out his arm for her to take. They found Wendy and Jack near the door, doing dance moves, each trying to out-silly the other. "You should both give up," Harry declared. "Neither of you can best Madam Granger, the ballet dancer extraordinaire."

"Hey, ballet is a serious dance," Hermione glowered.

"I know but you looked quite silly in that photo your mother sent me the other day," Harry answered with a straight face.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and she flushed in embarrassment. "Tell me she didn't, please. Oh, how could she do this? I will kill that- that- that foolish woman."

"Wow. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Jack joked as Harry and Wendy chuckled.

"Not anymore, I won't," Hermione declared, her voice muffled by her hands covering her face.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You looked adorable."

"Wait," Hermione said as her head snapped up, her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why would my mother write a letter to you? She couldn't have sent it on her own. She doesn't have an owl."

"I may have written her, asking for a list of books you had and your favourites," Harry confessed, hoping the book thread would distract his angry partner. It didn't work as her glare gained intensity. "And I may have asked nicely for an embarrassing picture."

The brunette poked Harry painfully in his chest. "You better had bought me one hell of a library or you'll be in a world of pain."

"Believe me, I hope so," Harry breathed out before he put on an over-enthusiastic smile on his face. "Wendy, we were just about to go out to watch the stars. Would you like to come?"

"Nah," the little girl answered with a wide grin. "I prefer to watch Hermione hex you."

"I've been betrayed," Harry exclaimed with his hand on his heart. "My revenge shall be long and my betrayer shall beg for release." He waited a moment as Wendy ran out of the hall, giving her a small lead before following with a wide grin. "Get back here, you scoundrel! Get back and face me like a man!"

He didn't need to look back to know Hermione and Jack were following the childish duo thanks to their chuckles. Harry caught the little runner in the courtyard, lifting her up and jumping on the snow, landing with Wendy sitting on his chest. "I win," she screamed, her grin painfully wide.

"I am bested by my betrayer," Harry moaned dramatically and waved his fist at the sky. "There is no justice in this cruel world. But I refuse to bow to my oppressors and those who would sit on a man's chest. I shall face my fate with my head held high and make my ancestors proud."

"I don't know which of them is the child," Harry heard Jack say with his smile obvious in his voice.

"I think they both are," Hermione said. "Harry had less than an ideal childhood and I think he's enjoying a chance to be one now that he got a chance."

He swallowed the thickness in his throat and pretended not to hear the 'old people' as he moved Wendy so she was laying against his chest as they settled to watch the sky. "Do you know why I love flying so much?"

"Why?" Wendy asked without looking at him.

"Because there are no walls in the sky. I can fly wherever I want to; I am free when I fly."

"Aren't you free on the ground?" the girl asked, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

"I don't feel like I am. There is always someone who hates you, someone who wants something from you, someone who expects something from you. I learned long ago that people are loud, rude and demanding. Now, sun, clouds and stars, they are always welcoming, always listening and always supportive. Hogwarts is where I belong, but the sky is where I'm free to be me."

Hermione laid next to him a moment after he finished and snuggled up to Harry. "There are people here who love you, Harry."

"I know," the green-eyed wizard answered with certainty. "That's why I don't live in the air."

Wendy snorted, her breath tickling Harry's chest. "How would you live in the air?"

Harry shrugged, causing both girls' heads to move up and down. "I could figure a way out. I could become an animagus and live as a bird, flying wherever I want and hunt my food."

"But you won't, right?" Hermione asked, unable to hide the little fear she felt at the prospect.

Harry smiled at the girl and planted a ghostly kiss on her nose. "Of course not. How could I leave my girls without my delightful presence?"

Neither girl answered, which pleased Harry immensely and they spent the next hour laying there, watching the clouds move and catching the stars when they allowed. Wendy's soft snores rose them up and Jack insisted on taking her back to the hospital so the kids could enjoy the rest of their night.

It was a subdued but content couple that made their way to Great Hall, refusing to leave each other's embrace as they walked. They joined the dance floor without a word and danced the night away, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies and the smell of each other's sweat.

And as Harry gazed at Hermione's chocolatey eyes, he knew, without a doubt, he loved her. Loved her like he couldn't love anyone else, and wouldn't even if he could. Who could I love but my partner in everything? He didn't feel the need to share his newfound understanding of his emotions. Hermione knew just by the look in his eyes.

Hermione didn't voice it either. Harry knew just by the look in her eyes.

His jealousy over the way Hermione looked at Viktor was long gone; she looked at him better, with love and respect and adoration and all the assorted feelings.

They were lost in each other, and neither wanted to be found. They belonged to each other, and neither wanted their freedom back.

Bagman's voice interrupted their kiss as they spoke of their love for each other without words. "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention." The chubby gambler cleared his throat and smiled, basking in the attention he received. Good for him, Harry thought. Bagman might be a degenerate gambler and a fool but he was, in his essence, a good man, wanting the simplest and shiniest things in life. "We end a great tournament with a delightful evening of dancing, and I'm sure we all would like to hear from the man who made it all happen. Well, okay, the ball would have happened either way but the point stands. Please, give a round of applause for Harry Potter."

Harry pushed down his irritation at the interruption to his time with Hermione and put an appreciative smile on his face as the noise level reached a new high. He tried to ignore Bagman waving him onto the stage but a push from Hermione saw him accept it begrudgingly. "Thank you," he said after he cast sonorous charm. He considered what he could say before chuckling to hide his nerves. "It was a great tournament, wasn't it? We all had fun as we raised..." he trailed off, remembering he still hadn't asked Hermione about the final numbers. He saw Hermione mime something and remembered the piece of parchment she gave Winky. He took out the parchment and looked at it in shock. "Holy shit!"

He cleared his throat, blushing at his reaction and faced the crowd with wide eyes and a big smile. "We raised a hundred and eighty-seven thousand three hundred and ninety-four galleons, four sickles and thirteen knuts," he whispered, his voice echoing across the room as no one made a sound. "That's more than twice our initial estimations."

"So, no, I can't accept your applause. This wasn't my success. This was all of ours. Everyone who helped with the tournament and everyone who watched it. The sponsors, the vendors, the cleaners, the builders, the ministry officials, the viewers, the players. This success belongs to our community. It is a reminder of what we can accomplish if we put our heads together. So, I don't want you to applaud me. I want you to applaud yourself and your community."

"This tournament may be over," he continued once the room silenced again, the applause still ringing in everyone's ears. "But it doesn't mean our work is done. We each have too much to offer to retire from community work. This month, we showed the world the good we are capable of. Let's not stop here. Let's aim higher, higher and higher." He breathed out and chuckled. "Let's aim for the stars and lead the magical world, not just ours but every part of the magical world, to a new golden era. Arthur and Merlin did it. Helga, Salazar, Rowena and Godric did it. Alexander did it. We can do it too if we come together. This," he showed the parchment to the crowd even though they couldn't read it. "This proves we can do what they did, and do it even better."

He looked around and grabbed the first glass he found after ensuring it was untouched. He raised his wine in the air. "To a world that will be the envy of future generations," he took a sip, joined by the crowd.

"And to new challenges."

* * *

Hello everyone. This is the end of this fanfic but I am considering a continuation that focuses on the effects new Harry and his idea of unification have on the war. I am still not sure how I would go about it and if you have any ideas, please comment and share. I hope to find inspiration.

And thank you for following through on one my my first attempts at writing.


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